


Devotion

by tarkus



Category: VIXX
Genre: Light Angst, M/M, Magic, Mystery, Nature, Slow Burn, mysticism and witchy stuff, some bloody moments, some soft moments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2019-05-06
Packaged: 2019-09-05 16:53:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 72,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16814674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tarkus/pseuds/tarkus
Summary: (of healing and time; of self and love)One day Wonshik is having one of those usual crises about what is he gonna do about his life where is he going what even is life, just typical for the late twenties, really; and then on the other, he’s receiving a proposal from one of his friend’s friend late grandmother or something.It seems like there’s a cabin on top of a mountain, a not-so-small house that needs care, and someone to stay there during the next months until summer comes again.or,The story of how a man found himself.





	1. Autumn I

**Author's Note:**

> Ah! Here it is, my baby ♡
> 
> I started working on this fic right after my birthday in August, and oh, it was such an experience. I discovered many things about life and myself while writing it, and so! I'm pretty happy to share it with the world! I hope you discover some things about yourself, too. And if not, well, I hope you have a good time. It's a long ride haha 
> 
> Much love to Nini who not only heard me whining all those months but also helped me revise this chapter, you're the real angel here ♡♡

It happens, not slowly, nor fast. But it does.

One day Wonshik is having one of those usual crises about _what is he gonna do about his life where is he going what even is life_ , just typical for the late twenties, really; and then on the other, he’s receiving a proposal from one of his friend’s friend late grandmother or something.

It seems like there’s a cabin on top of a mountain, a not-so-small house that needs care, and someone to stay there during the next months until summer comes again.

It’s not a good proposal, not at all, it makes him remember _The Shining_ and makes him remember many and many other horror movies.

He doesn’t like the idea.

But then his friend is showing him pictures of the cabin and the small town that is located pretty close, and it seems homey and cozy. Bucolic, even.

And he’s going to get paid for that.

For just… staying at a house for a whole nine months.

When he stops to think about it, about how he’s kind of lost and how he would definitely love some time off, that actually seems like a damn good proposal.

So he accepts, just like that.

“Yeah, why not.” He says to his friend, over a big cup of coffee, steam blurring his vision.

“Cool, dude.” His friend says back.

And it’s settled.

Not right away, of course.

His friend gives him the number of the other friend, and then he has to call the other guy and call the guy’s grandmother and all that. It’s all very mundane and boring, the whole process. But, as soon as October made its appearance, he was signing a contract with the said grandmother. With her patting his cheeks and saying how good a man he was for doing this whole favor for her while he bowed and replied ‘no no I should be the one to thank you.’

Politeness, he muses, can get you very far in life.

Sometimes literally.

As he’s packing his car – an old silver thing that he bought with his own hard earned money – throwing all of his belongings he deems necessary on the back seat, including his sound system, Wonshik finally takes a break and looks into the skies. Night has fallen already, but here in the city, in the packed neighborhood of his former apartment, there are no stars, only the lights of the street lamps and the lights coming from all the windows, the TVs, the electronics.

He doesn’t think much about it, but, as he turns on the car and starts to drive, the windows open and the radio on, the moon appears on the rear-view mirror. It’s tiny and yellow, and it’s still so thin, so new, that it seems like a quiet smile to him.

Wonshik was never one to pay attention to those things, he considered himself one of those city people who enjoy high buildings and convenience stores open 24/7.

However, as he enters the highway that would lead him to the promised house, he wonders why he never looked at the moon this way.

☾

Wonshik arrives at night, in the middle of the darkness and fog. It’s, in overall, a terrifying place. And Wonshik never gets scared, no, of course not. But all lights are off, and he’s sure he’s hearing some weird birds or something, maybe an animal growl. And the fog! He never imagined it could get this thick.

On the bright side, though, it just seems like he’s walking on clouds. Humid and gentle and playful.

And maybe that’s the best way to look into this.

Because the house – the house that was supposed to be a cabin – is right there in front of his eyes and it looks majestic and way bigger than what he thought.

It’s made of dark hardwood and big bricks, with a big entrance door.

He has to use his cellphone’s flashlight to open it, the door is heavy, way heavier than what he expected, so when Wonshik finally manages to open it, he stumbles inside.

Everything is still dark, the only thing being illuminated by the faint light of the phone is the floor.

But it feels _moist_ , and it smells like decay and mold and nature.

It smells like the house is alive, and Wonshik isn’t sure whether that’s a good or a bad thing, so he hurries to find a light switch.

With his hands touching the wall, he manages.

And, as with everything that happened so far, he finds himself surprised by what he sees.

It’s not… a creepy house at all.

In fact, the interior could be called _really nice_ if it wasn’t kind of outdated. As if time had stopped in 1980 or something.

Wonshik doesn’t mind that much though, he feels relief downing upon him as he doesn’t see anything that could be too threatening. Like leaks on the ceiling or big windows or… or shadows.

It’s just a regular house in the mountains.

Mundane.

Like everything else in his life.

He sighs, knowing that he still needs to unpack the car and find the closest bedroom.

At least… at least he feels safe.

And with that thought in mind, he begins to work, making this oddly too normal house into a home.

☾

Wonshik wakes up. Or better: Wonshik has a hard time waking up; he feels cold, colder than ever. And in the back of his hazy mind, he can feel that something is utterly wrong, it may have something to do with a bad dream, probably. His skin crawls as he remembers the whispers and all the darkness.

Bad dreams are the worst, definitely.

He opens his eyes.

Dizziness envelops him as he stares at the faded white paint of the ceiling, He shifts in bed, not knowing what’s happening or where he is.

Then he sees.

The big window, the opened curtains, showing green and brown and thick branches.

Then he remembers.

He’s not… he’s definitely not in the city, he’s definitely not in his house.

Ah.

Wonshik groans, of course, of course, he’s not in his house.

He looks at the window again, the faint light of morning coloring the room with whiteness that seems almost surreal.

And it’s so cold. Wonshik wonders for a moment if this house even has a heating system and whether he remembered to turn it on last night.

But it’s still way too early and too cold for racing thoughts.

So, he decides to stay in bed for a while, scrolling through his phone.

It was never this _cold_ in the city. But he can’t go back now, can he? Of course not. Wonshik is a man of his words if nothing else.

Plus, now he has all the time in the world to start his personal project.

_That_ makes him smile, and, with the swiftness of those who have a purpose, he finally gets up.

(whispers and darkness and _there’s something wrong_ all forgotten)

☾

It’s midday when Wonshik finally manages to install all of his sound equipment in one of the many rooms of the house. He had chosen especially one that didn’t have too much furniture, so it would be easier to move things around.

He’s satisfied, for now, and he grins even more as he sees his new “studio” all settled up. It feels more or less out of place if he can be honest, with the strange fireplace in one of the walls and the wooden floor, plus the horrendous red couch. But, outside of that, it’s perfect.

For a brief second, he wonders if he should bother with soundproofing the room, however, that’s a lot of work, isn’t it? And it’s not like he has neighbors.

In the city, in his shitty apartment, no one had ever complained, why someone would complain about loud music in the middle of nowhere.

_Maybe some squirrel will_ , he thinks and he laughs.

Sure.

But.

It’s midday when he hears a loud sound echoing throughout the whole house.

(Everything is loud when you’re alone)

He runs, trying to find the source of the noise. The house has many rooms, many corridors, and fuck, he’s sure that’s how scary movies start. So, he stops.

He isn’t even sure he heard something.

It takes a while for him to catch his breath.

No, Wonshik will not – definitely not – fall crazy to loneliness. He has so many things to do, and it’s midday and still very cold, so it’s only apparent that he should just… take care of that as well.

He spends at least thirty minutes trying to find the heating system of the house and, when he finally finds it in the basement, of course, the damn thing is broken. As natural as breathing, Wonshik types on youtube “how to repair a heating system” and finds a couple of good tutorials.

(It’s such a blessing that there’s even wi-fi in this damn house)

If he’s gonna live alone now, there’s nothing wrong in learning some new things, right? And learning how to take care of a house this big, yes.

☾

It takes a while for Wonshik to notice that he, indeed, is not the right person to fix the heating system of a house this big. In fact, he’s almost sure he broke it even more. All those pipes surely were confusing.

So, with no other option in his hands, he takes his car and drives to the small town.

The road is all mud and leaves, and his poor old car shrieks with every bump.

But soon, the town appears in front of his eyes, entirely different from what he had seen at night. It looks… small, for lack of other words. And, most of all, it seems lively, with people walking on the streets and riding bikes and all that.

Perks of small towns, he guesses.

He parks on the main street, looking at one of those big stores that always happen to appear in small towns. Those kinds of stores that sell everything, from clothing to horse accessories and whatnot. That, Wonshik thinks, is exactly what he needs.

He enters the store, amused by the old western song playing, and the smell of oil and old envelops him. It is, undoubtedly, quite disgusting. But he has a goal in mind, and he’s not turning back.

He finds the register quickly, avoiding the big aisles and just walking straight.

And sure enough, there’s someone there, looking as bored as ever, staring at their nails and all.

“Uh, hello?” Wonshik mutters.

The boy perks up, eyebrows raising.

Now Wonshik can see how young the boy is, and, to his utter terror, how he’s wearing a beanie with the words “ _best boy_ ” knitted on the front.

It’s absurd.

“Hi?” The boy replies tentatively, he’s wearing a name tag and, by close inspection, Wonshik can see the usual “hello my name is ____” and the words ‘Han Sanghyuk’ written in a not so neatly handwriting.

But that gets lost on Wonshik easily because he has more urgent matters at hand.

“I just moved, in the house on top of the mountain, you know?” God, was that really necessary to say? But then again, he can’t stop his mouth as he begins to say: “Like, I moved yesterday, and it’s getting so cold, and you know, I think my heating system is broken or something, so I need some help? Sorry, I know nothing about this town so.”

And with that, he waves his hands, a little embarrassed.

“Oh, so you’re the new guy.” The boy - Han Sanghyuk- replies, totally unbothered.

“New guy?”

“How long are you staying?”

That throws him off a bit, but he answers: “Until summer, probably June.”

Sanghyuk hums, muttering a “Summer huh…”

And then he laughs as if that was the funniest joke Wonshik could ever tell.

“What?” Wonshik says, confused.

“Nothing. It’s nothing.”

But, Wonshik can see the mischievous grin the boy is sporting, and suddenly Wonshik is afraid.

(Of what? Of whispers and hands and knocks and)

“So your heating system.” Sanghyuk says, bringing Wonshik back to reality.

“Yeah.”

“You do realize this is a market and not… a repair shop or whatever right?”

“Huh.”

Sanghyuk laughs again, and this time it sounds more childish and human.

“It’s fine, lucky you, I know a guy who understands everything about fixing stuff.” Sanghyuk starts shuffling the papers on top of the counter.

It doesn’t look like he’s looking for anything in particular, in fact, it just seems like he’s making more of a mess until:

“Ah! Found it!”

He handles Wonshik a card that’s all smudged on the edges, only a phone number printed there.

“What am I supposed to do with this?”

Sanghyuk looks at him as if he’s grown a second head.

“Call him?”

“Just like that?”

The boy chuckles, “Goddess, you’re truly lost aren’t you?”

Wonshik blinks, the words hitting him in places he didn’t want them to.

“I – ”

“It’s alright. Look, there’s this place on Lost Summer Street. It looks like an old bar, but it’s harmless. You should go there.”

It’s confusing, all of this conversation is, so he stares at the suspicious card still in his hands.

“Don’t be afraid!” Sanghyuk chirps, “Go go!”

And with that, Wonshik can’t do anything but comply.

Against all odds, there’s a bar on Lost Summer Street. A very shady looking bar, if Wonshik can be honest. All windows closed, the fading green paint of the outside wall anything but inviting.

He goes in all the same.

And, he’s stuck with a place he wasn’t precisely expecting.

It’s not… fancy. Far from it, and it’s not exactly that bad either. It’s almost too mundane and ordinary to be real. As if you make up some place in your mind and it turns out the place is _exactly_ how you envisioned.

Odd.

On top of it all, there’s a man, a barman or whatever, cleaning the bar’s counter as if he was expecting someone.

Wonshik almost trips on his feet as the man turns to look at him and god, isn’t that a pretty face.

“Oh? Hello? Can I help you?”

Wonshik is still too dumbstruck to form coherent phrases, so he just walks towards the man and sits on one of the chairs.

“The boy from the big store there sent me here.”

There, a proper greeting as any.

“Sanghyuk sent you here?” The man speaks, looking quizzically at Wonshik, until: “Ah, of course. You’re the new guy right?”

“Well… it seems so. I moved yesterday, will be staying until summer.”

The man grins. “Summer?”

“It’s on the contract.” Wonshik replies, not sure what all those men have against summer or whatever.

“Sure. Name’s Hongbin.”

Wonshik nods, shaking the hand that is directed at him.

“Mine’s Wonshik. Kim Wonshik.”

The grin on Hongbin’s face widens, turning almost scary.

“Great! Do you want something to drink? I will tell Hakyeon to look at your place later.”

“I…” He begins and then stops. “What? Who’s Hakyeon? How do you know about my house problem?”

Hongbin turns his back at him, picking a bottle of what surely is whiskey and pouring it down a glass.

The drink is settled right near Wonshik’s hands, and he takes it, most out of habit than anything.

“Well, first, I’m an observant person so, yeah, I could see you holding Hakyeon’s card.”

Wonshik looks at the card, neatly placed on the counter. He didn’t remember… putting it in his wallet or something. Actually, he didn’t remember most of his walk from the store to here.

That makes his mind scream in anxiety and panic _and the whispers and the darkness and the hands and_.

“And second.” Hongbin continues, “Don’t be afraid, Wonshik. That trait doesn’t suit you.”

He finds himself speechless, so he raises the glass that is still in his hand and drinks. The whiskey burns and the normalcy of it grounds him again.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, dear.” Hongbin says, and the smile he sports is more affectionate than what Wonshik expected.

Maybe he was freaking out and it had shown.

Maybe.

“You should… eat something, when you get to your house okay? And don’t be afraid. Hakyeon will help you with the heating thingy.”

And with that, Wonshik sees himself nodding, thanking that strange man and walking away from the bar, walking away until he finds himself seated in his car.

He can’t quite remember how.

Or, how Hongbin even knew he had a problem with the heating system.

Taking a deep breath, he ignites the engine and starts the long way up.

☾

When Wonshik arrives at his new house the night has settled again. His surroundings look eerie and too foggy for his liking, and _there’s something wrong,_ he knows there is but.

But a man is standing right in front of the door, tall and lean, carrying a toolbox in one hand.

Wonshik parks and the man waves.

He looks at the time on the bright screen of his cellphone, and god, how the fuck is it already nine in the evening?

He gets out of the car, the cold hitting him hard on the face.

“Hello hello good afternoon.” The man greets, soft and cheerful. “I was told you need some help?”

Wonshik blinks at the man, taking a few seconds to smile back, even though it seems oh so fake.

“Man, it’s late, are you sure?” He answers back.

“Oh, time is not a problem, right?” The man grins more, “The most important here is that you’re well settled and not…” He stops and looks at Wonshik, assessing him, “And not looking like you’re dying of hypothermia! Come, come inside Wonshik!”

The man ushers him inside, and Wonshik doesn’t have enough time to actually wonder how the door was open when he was sure he left it locked but.

“Are you Hakyeon?”

The man stops on his tracks.

“Of course I am Hakyeon, who did you think I was? No one ever told you not to talk with strangers?”

What.

“What?” He says out loud.

“Goddess.” Hakyeon - that’s his name right? – shakes his head, “You’re so lost. Darling, please, show me where the problem is. This place is _freezing_.”

Wonshik wants to protest, wants to throw this guy out of the window and just…be alone for a second.

However, the house is undoubtedly cold.

(And maybe Wonshik doesn’t want to be alone because)

“Okay. Okay, follow me.”

He walks silently towards the direction of the basement, Hakyeon following his tracks and humming something. A song, probably.

When they arrive, the basement is still the same as in the morning: some dust, some spider-webs, the heating machines.

“Oh.” Hakyeon says, looking everywhere but the machines’ location. “Well. I see.”

Wonshik ponders if he’s hallucinating this whole day.

“Wonshik dear,” Hakyeon turns to him, placing a firm hand on his shoulder, “Why don’t you go fetch me a glass of water? My mouth is so _dry_.”

In the back of his mind, Wonshik thinks that’s precisely how horror movies go, but, still believing in the innocence of normalcy, he nods and complies, going upstairs and heading to the kitchen.

It’s all white tiles and cold faucet water, the big kitchen window showing him nothing but darkness.

And Wonshik gets kinda lost, with thoughts of how he should install some lights outside or, or how he thinks he sees something out there but. And then there’s too much water on his hands, the glass he was holding is already full enough that it’s spilling and –

He sees Hakyeon’s reflection by the window.

“You took too long.” He says, walking to Wonshik and taking the glass of water from his hands, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

Hakyeon stares at him, the silence creating an uncomfortable atmosphere.

“Well.” Hakyeon says, taking just a tiny sip of the water, “It’s fixed, your house will be much more enjoyable from now on. Although…”

Wonshik waits, but Hakyeon says no more, only stares and stares. Again with the assessing.

It makes him shiver.

“How much do I owe you?” Wonshik finally says.

Hakyeon sighs, shifting on his foot, “It’s very late indeed, you can pay me next time you go to Hongbin’s, what do you think?”

“I –”

“It’s alright, you’re new in town after all.”

“But.”

“No buts!” Hakyeon says smiling, making his eyes so tiny and suddenly.

Suddenly Wonshik doesn’t feel like he just had the weirdest day of his life.

“Go to sleep, rest, you look exhausted.”

“Thank you.” He mutters.

And maybe all the weirdness he has been feeling is just that he’s not used to the kindness that comes from small town people.

Maybe.

“See you around!”

Hakyeon says and Hakyeon waves, walking out of the kitchen and disappearing from Wonshik’s line of sight.

After a few seconds or minutes, he hears the sound of the front door opening and closing.

Oh well.

☾

Wonshik wakes up, startled, sweating, gasping.

There’s nothing new with this.

He shivers, staring at the fading white of the ceiling.

Ah.

He turns, grabbing his cell phone from the nightstand.

It’s midday, and he just woke up.

He shivers, it’s still so…cold.

( _and the hands and the darkness and_ )

No, he says firmly to himself, he has work to do, and he will definitely not succumb to those thoughts.

His bare foot touches the hardwood floor, and it’s so cold. Looking upon the window he can see the day is grey and _muddy_ of all things.

Cold cold cold.

Without noticing, he’s in the kitchen making coffee and fixing something to eat, he feels like he’s starving.

The grey tiles of the kitchen are cold too. But Wonshik has to work, on his things and on his music.

And that’s what he does. He enters the room where he calls his ‘studio,’ cup of coffee in one hand, a plate with toasts in the other, and there he stays.

For how long, god only knows.

It’s probably past evening, after what had felt like centuries working on the same beat, when he senses _something_. He lowers the volume then, looking up, across from the monitors and to the door.

He thinks he hears something, a knock, a whisper.

And he shivers.

No.

He raises the volume again, repeating the beat one more time.

He will definitely, not succumb to this.

But the thing is, as much as he wanted to keep a sane mind, the sounds keep coming. On the third day without leaving his house, the knocks grew more incessant. On the fourth, he was sure there was someone right outside the studio’s door.

And even then.

Even then Wonshik kept to himself.

He knew what loneliness did to people.

Maybe that’s why, on the fifth day, he found himself going crazy trying to find Hakyeon’s card. He remembers putting it on his wallet but now. Now he isn’t sure anymore, and he is definitely sure he hears voices outside his house.

Wonshik – god help him – is so scared.

He grabs his cellphone and, with some luck, finds the police number of the small town.

He doesn’t even know what he’s doing when the line rings and rings without answering.

Wonshik doesn’t know anything anymore until –

Until someone picks up.

And he’s babbling on the line, begging for someone, anyone, to _please come here there’s someone outside_.

“…Goddess, you realize it’s been raining like hell all week?”

The voice on the other side of the line says and no… Wonshik didn’t even notice.

Rain?

“Please.” He begs.

“Alright.”

And then he’s met with dead silence.

He stares at the ugly mustard yellow of the walls of the room, counting in his head, from one hundred to one, and beginning again.

_It helps to calm the nerves, Wonshik._

He’s at 89…88…87… when he hears the bell ringing.

No knocks, but a bell.

He runs to the front door, opening it without a second thought.

Right in front of him, he sees. He sees a police officer looking downright soaked, and he sees the incessant rain.

“Oh.”

The police officer frowns at him.

“So you’re the new guy.”

It sounds cold and detached, making Wonshik feel small.

“Sorry I –”

“People in small towns like this like to gossip you know,” The man waves his hand to the darkness outside, “But no one told me I would find a man so wrecked.”

Wonshik feels even smaller.

“Come now,” the officer says, stepping up closer to Wonshik, “don’t you have manners? Look at how wet I am.”

And sure, he can see how the uniform is sticking everywhere and how the man’s hair is dripping.

“I will – I will grab some towels and huh.” Wonshik stutters, “You can come in.”

“Thanks.”

He runs to the nearest bathroom, trying to find comfy and clean towels, but when he gets back to the front, he sees no one. His heart starts racing, a crippling feeling engulfing his whole being. He feels like passing out.

But.

But there’s a humming, a song, coming from the kitchen. And that’s where Wonshik goes, finding the officer right in front of the stove.

“What are you doing?”

The officer turns, showing a pan with some boiling liquid inside.

“Cooking, obviously.”

Wonshik blinks. It is, definitely, not obvious. Actually, this is the last thing he had in mind when a police officer walked into his house.

“Why.” He hears himself say.

The man chuckles, stirring the contents of the pan. “My job is to take care of people, right? That’s what I’m doing. You look like you haven’t eaten in days.”

Wonshik finds himself thinking that, well, the man’s not wrong.

“I brought you towels.” He says, not wanting to keep on the subject of not eating.

“Oh.” the officer looks surprised and definitely not as wet as Wonshik remembers but. But the man takes them on his hands all the same, a ghost of a smile crossing his lips, “Thank you. Ah, what was your name again?”

Without a second thought, he answers: “Wonshik. Kim Wonshik.”

The man moves, stirring some more, face hidden from Wonshik’s point of view.

“Mine’s Jaehwan. I’m glad to finally meet you, even though the circumstances aren’t the best, right?”

Wonshik doesn’t answer. He was never that good with small talk. He was never good at talks. But the man seems satisfied with anything, really. It takes a couple of silent minutes until he’s asking for two bowls and spoons from Wonshik.

Soon they’re both sitting next to each other at the kitchen counter. Wonshik feels the heat coming from the _thing_ the man – Jaehwan – cooked.

“What is this?” He asks.

Jaehwan snorts, taking a spoon of it and putting in his mouth.

It’s green and smells like everything Wonshik detests.

“It’s soup, and no please don’t make that face, I’m not a cook and you need to restock soon.”

“Sorry.” He mutters again, grabbing one spoon for himself and tasting the stuff.

Surprisingly, it doesn’t kill him.

“But I’m serious,” Jaehwan starts again as if they were talking like normal friends before, as if they knew each other already, “you need to go pay Sanghyuk a visit, your fridge has absolutely nothing. What kind of man are you Wonshik? You’re not in the big city anymore with all those… apps and stuff.”

That remark makes Wonshik chuckle.

“You’re right.”

Jaehwan turns his face to him, smirk appearing. “I’m always right.”

“Okay?”

“Anyways,” Jaehwan continues, slurping some more of the green goo that he called soup, “why did you call me? I remember you practically sobbing on the phone.”

Wonshik shakes his head, he’s almost sure that isn’t the usual behavior of a police officer.

But then again, small towns and their oddities.

And it’s hard, to put into words the raw fear he had felt only minutes ago, especially when things seem so _fine_ at the moment.

Is this what people call going crazy.

He wonders.

“Wonshik? Hey?”

Hands wave at his face, bringing him back to the here and now.

With a deep breath, he starts: “I heard…things.”

“Things.” Jaehwan deadpans.

“Yeah, like, bangs on the door. No, more like knocks and.”

One eyebrow is raised at him.

“And I have those _nightmares_.”

Wonshik expects Jaehwan to laugh, or to dismiss him completely, but he’s met with a serious look from the other man.

“Dreams and knocks huh. If I’m correct, Hakyeon was here some days ago?”

He doesn’t know the correlation between those facts, but he nods.

At this point, the soup has already cooled, leaving a bad taste in his mouth whenever he sips some of it, and it feels awful.

Everything about this does, if he can be honest.

At least…

“Well!” Jaehwan claps.

At least he isn’t alone anymore.

“Let me tell you some things,” Jaehwan continues, “houses as big as yours usually make noises, especially if they’re old. And this one right here is as old as you can imagine.”

Wonshik frowns. That doesn’t sound right.

“And, adding that you are, I guess, not used to live in houses, of course you would make up some noises like this, right?”

“I…don’t follow?”

Jaehwan sighs, shoulders slumping. “I’m not saying I don’t believe in you, Wonshik. But living in a house up in the mountains is very different than living in a city full of life. Sometimes what we see – no, what we hear – it’s not what it is exactly. And at this time of the season we have so much rain, maybe you heard thunder somewhere? Have you thought about it?”

“Oh.”

“Besides, what are you working on, huh?”

“What do you mean?”

“Dude, you spent five days inside this house, you’re working on something, or else you would already have shown your pretty face in town.”

“Ah…It’s just music. I produce.”

Jaehwan smiles, wide and full of teeth.

“A producer!”

Hands are suddenly on Wonshik shoulders, shaking him.

“I used to sing back in high school!” Jaehwan chirps, “If you need a singer, call me please.”

Wonshik gives up on eating more of the soup, shifting his body so he can fully face Jaehwan now.

“Sure.” He replies.

“Amazing!”

It takes some seconds for Jaehwan to calm down and get back to the topic they were talking about, and Wonshik can see how hard it is for Jaehwan to concentrate. _That_ is also not the usual trait for a police officer.

“Ah, see, so maybe that was the reason you heard things. You’ve been listening to the same thing over and over, all alone and crumpled inside a room. The mind starts to wander far off if you do that.”

Maybe Jaehwan’s right.

“Maybe you’re right.”

Jaehwan laughs boldly. “What did I say about that?”

☾

Wonshik falls, into a routine, that is.

He sets his alarm clock to eight in the morning, weekends included. He cooks and makes coffee. After that, he goes to take a little walk on the perimeters of the house, getting further into the forest each day.

It feels like exploring. It kind of is.

After that, he gets his car and goes into the small town, sometimes just to see something other than trees and white walls, but, most of the time, to talk to someone. See faces.

He doesn’t dwell much on the fact that he sees some faces more than others, like the boy from the market, Sanghyuk, or the barman from the sketchy bar, Hongbin.

When the sun sets, Wonshik comes back to his house and works on his music.

And it’s kind of weird and sweet that when night comes, Jaehwan or Hakyeon come by, sometimes just to “ _have a look on him and the house_ ”, sometimes to stay the night and pester him about putting his sweet voice on his songs. (That is always Jaehwan, though.)

The October days go like that, just like a stream of a river, flowing in a swift and steady pace.

Wonshik tries not to think much about the dreams he’s still having, or about the sounds he’s definitely sure he hears when the clock strikes three in the morning.

But when morning comes again, the sun shines in between clouds, and the red and brown leaves fall. The occasional bird still sings, the people of the town still go out.

And for a while, that’s enough for Wonshik.

(There’s the crippling cold, _and the hands and the_ )

For a while, Wonshik dismisses everything as just his mind playing tricks with him.

☾

On the last day of October, Wonshik finds himself leaning his whole face on the counter of Hongbin’s bar. He knows he’s moping, even Hongbin knows.

And they’re not quite acquaintances yet, but.

“What’s gotten into you, huh?” Hongbin says, using a soft voice. Probably for the first time ever.

Wonshik only sighs.

“Hey, do you want, I don’t know, some tequila?”

That makes Wonshik perks up. “What?”

“I don’t know man, tequila always makes people happy.”

He shakes his head, “No no, it’s not. It’s not sadness.”

That makes Hongbin sigh in relief.

“Well, what is it then? A broken heart?”

Wonshik gives a small laugh, “God I wish. But no, I just… I just feel so cold all the time. Hakyeon fixed the heating system, and I’ve been wearing all of those sweaters and coats and! Even gloves!” He stands his hands, showing those ugly blue gloves he had found at the market.

Hongbin raises one eyebrow. “Is that from Sanghyuk’s?”

“Yes but that’s not the point.”

“Of course it isn’t.”

He blinks as he sees Hongbin pouring two shots of tequila right next to Wonshik’s face. The smell is terrible, as expected.

“No.”

“But you’re cold! This is the best solution.”

“I said no, come on, it’s like, eleven in the morning?”

“And still… you’re here.”

“Shut up.”

Silence follows then, and Wonshik sees Hongbin downing the two shots in an entirely unbothered way. God, that’s some strength right there. But he doesn’t know what to say, or what to do. He’s cold, so cold, but not the shivering kind of cold. He feels like his bones will break any second now.

“See.”

He hears Hongbin starting to say, in his soft voice, again. Wonshik doesn’t like it.

“What.” He replies.

“There’s this… trick, the old people always did. It might help you? With the cold, I mean, not with your other stuff.”

“There’s no other stuff.” Wonshik says, but he straights himself in the chair.

“Right. Whatever. My point is: the old thing. Light a bonfire tonight.”

Wonshik wants to laugh, wants to cry, in desperation. As if he didn’t think of a fire before. As if he hadn’t tried.

“I already did that.”

Hongbin’s eyes roam over Wonshik, and suddenly, he feels small and young.

“It needs to be outside.”

“You realize that that doesn’t make any sense, right?”

“Well, I’m telling you, light a bonfire tonight. Outside of your house, preferably near the woods, but not that close. We don’t wanna start a real fire, do we?”

Wonshik thinks that’s the worst advice someone could ever give him, and of course it had to be Hongbin. But.

But he had tried everything already.

He leans his face against the counter one more time and mumbles: “Alright. A bonfire it is.”


	2. Interlude: red just like the fires;

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a small thing to get the story in motion ~

To light a fire, wood is needed, obviously.

And look, Wonshik may not be the brightest, but he knows how to search things on youtube, and he takes pride in the strength he has in his arms when he finds an axe and actually starts chopping wood.

It’s relieving, the whole work of cutting and destroying and all the sweat and force. It feels human and grotesque. But relieving, nonetheless.

(He kindly apologizes to every tree he cuts, though.)

He doesn’t know how much wood he needs, but he cuts a good amount and piles it up right in front of the house, right near the entrance to the forest.

For a single moment, after looking at his phone and noticing it’s been hours since he began this little endeavor, he thinks that maybe it would be easier if he had just bought wood from Sanghyuk or whatever.

_But that would make all of this pointless, wouldn’t it?_

A bonfire, a real bonfire, needs time and sweat and soul.

That’s what comes into his mind then, and he can’t quite understand where it comes from, but it sounds sincere and real.

So, sweat and work.

And soul.

And, probably the most important.

Fire.

It helps that it is a beautiful, breezy night, with the low song of crickets and forest animals floating through him. It’s cold, of course it is.

It always is.

But, as he starts birthing the fire, making it into existence, the cold, the crippling, hurting sensation starts fading away.

He watches as the wood burns, getting red and then black. As the heat tingles his face.

He watches.

Moths and tiny bugs start to gather around, flying and roaming. It’s not the season for them, is just too cold. But they’re there nonetheless. Some of them die, caught on the fire, some of them buzz around Wonshik’s ears.

And… they shouldn’t be there.

It’s too cold.

It’s not the season.

But Wonshik is finally – finally! – feeling something other than freezing cold and he’s sweating and everything is hot hot hot.

Not only because of the fire but his insides burn, just like the little white moths are burning too.

And then he looks at the skies, at all the little stars shining.

He thinks he’s going either crazy or blind.

It’s so hot.

And then he hears a sound, of wood breaking and something, someone, walking towards the fire. At first, he stills, his whole being screaming on alert; but then, it could be an animal or his own imagination, right?

He takes a deep breath, the scent of smoke filling his insides.

The noises of footsteps come closer and closer, and this time, Wonshik closes his eyes.

Maybe everything had gone wrong the moment he decided to come up here in this abandoned house, abandoned city.

He hears shuffling, he hears someone – something – _breathing_ right next to him and he can’t, he simply can’t open his eyes, not now.

He focuses on the sensations, on the heat coming from the fire, on the scent of burning, on the sweat running down his forehead.

The noises get louder, the shuffling even closer. Crickets start to sing out of nowhere, and it feels like everything stopped and started happening all at once. He _senses_ as someone – something – sits beside him.

Wonshik can’t look, he can’t. Simple like that.

There’s movement and heat.

The fire burns and he hears some of the wood falling down, burning even more, ceasing to be wood and becoming what everything will be at the end: ashes.

Wonshik opens his eyes.

The first thing he sees is the fire, hot and red. But that’s not what makes his heart peak. He knows there’s a thing beside him, he can see it in his peripheral vision: white robes, pale skin.

For a glimpse of a second, Wonshik thinks that this is it. This is his end. He had done something terrible and now some freak spirit had come to take his life away or something.

For a glimpse of a second, Wonshik wants to laugh because that’s actually such a dumb and cliché way to die, isn’t it?

He would prefer to die of old age, thank you very much.

So, with a sheer determination to not let his dreams of dying the way he wants get stomped on upon the wants of this creature, Wonshik turns his head to face his fate.

What he sees is… more or less exactly what he was expecting and not.

A being, with a human face, pale but not as much as to call it unnatural or otherworldly, silver hair – which was the most uncommon thing about it- and shiny black eyes, searching something on Wonshik’s face. A ghost of a smile on the creature’s lips, raised eyebrows.

If Wonshik could be honest, he would rephrase his initial thoughts because everything about this being was actually very uncommon and otherworldly, and all the monochromatic white thing going on… the cat-like eyes and the pink lips.

“Oh. I didn’t know people still did that.”

And that’s the moment Wonshik freezes, because the creature’s voice is oh so soft and low, feeling almost like a whisper in the back of his mind.

But, at least it didn’t sound like a threat, on the contrary, the creature seemed like wanting to chit-chat with Wonshik, of all things.

So, with no other alternative, Wonshik accepts his fate.

“Did what?” He replies, voice wavering at the corners.

Desperation, someone might say.

The creature chuckles, hiding its smile with the back of its hands.

“The fires.” The soft voice echoes down Wonshik’s chore.

“Oh.”

“It’s nice to see that someone still remembers.”

_Remembers what_ , Wonshik thinks.

However, that’s not what’s actually bugging him, because, in the light of the fires, the ethereal creature looks almost too human, with a bead of sweat starting to form on its forehead, a blush spreading through its cheeks.

A gust of wind brings Wonshik back to the reality of the situation, and his heart starts to peak again.

“Who are you?” he blurts out.

The sound of burning wood fills the silence, until the creature shifts, body fully facing Wonshik.

“Who are _you_?” The creature says back.

No, nope, Wonshik will definitely not play those kinds of games, so he moves too, facing the creature entirely.

By this angle, he can see more things, such as the blue veins on the creature hands and the brightness of its black eyes. And although the question was voiced in a playful manner, the eyes are somber and steady. It is a question but also a command. And, in the end, who’s Wonshik to deny this kind of answer?

He shivers.

“I…”

The creature nods, waving its hands in the air so Wonshik can continue.

“I’m Kim Wonshik.”

The creature stares back, tilting its head to the side.

“Are you?”

“What?”

“Kim Wonshik. Are you sure about that?”

“Uh.”

The fires burn, the crickets sing and the heat spreads.

He blinks, hoping that the creature will disappear in the tiny seconds his eyes close. But hope is a scarce thing, isn’t it?

“It’s okay if you don’t know.” The creature replies back, probably seeing how that question took Wonshik out, “I’m Jung Taekwoon.”

The creature, now with a name, offers its hand, and Wonshik shakes it.

It feels warm and human, too human.

“Are you human?” He asks.

The fires burns and time seems like stopping, the creature blinks slowly.

A laugh, shy and soft, resounds everywhere as if the whole forest is also laughing along with the creature.

And then Wonshik blinks, and everything goes dark.


	3. Autumn II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nini is my official beta now and I love her forever, you should also give her some love [here](https://twitter.com/bleu_capsicum) !!!
> 
> ♡

Wonshik wakes up sweating, shaking off the bed sheets and staring with horror at the white ceiling.

A dream, a nightmare, whatever it was… it wasn’t real.

It couldn’t be, not when Wonshik was trying so hard to stick with the little sanity he still had.

Looking up at the window, with the curtains open and giving him a view of the forest, he sees that it’s a bright day already, not grey or rainy, but actually sunny and colorful. And, for that single moment, that’s enough of a reason to just get out of bed and start with his day.

☾

November comes slowly and steady. As if the world was also reluctant to let autumn go, as if the world was afraid of the colder season that was yet to come.

For Wonshik it didn’t matter much, after that scary little dream on October 31st, he stopped feeling the crippling cold that had assaulted his life here up in the mountains.

And it was still a mystery to him, that night.

He remembers building up the bonfire, he remembers the burning. But what happened later? How he had woken up on his bed the next day?

It was all very fuzzy and strange.

But, in all honesty, the bonfire thing had worked. Points for Hongbin and his insane advice.

However, there were other matters at hand that didn’t stop with the bonfire.

The loud knocks on his door at three in the morning, the whispers, the noises.

And look, Wonshik isn't a believer, never was and never will be, but if the bonfire had worked with the cold, maybe someone from the small strange city could have some advice for spirits and bad dreams?

Not that he would actually say it like that to others but.

He had to try.

And on top of it all, since he had arrived, he had started creating so much but it was all so scattered, little sounds here and there that didn’t connect with the others. Odd beats that he couldn’t place anywhere.

If he was the philosophical type, he would say that his music was a mirror of his current situation, however, Wonshik was not that naïve.

So, help he sought.

☾

Wonshik finds Sanghyuk at the same place he could always find him: behind the register of his odd but convenient market.

After coming here for weeks, Wonshik had finally got used to all the smells and weird things on display. Sure, the antique dollhouses stacked together with cat food were some sort of bizarre combination, but then again, who was Wonshik to say anything?

Well, Wonshik was a damn curious guy.

“Why do you keep all of this useless stuff in here?” He says to Sanghyuk, pointing at the dollhouses, “Does anyone even buy it?”

Sanghyuk frowns at him, “Hello to you too, mister full of questions. It’s been a while.”

“Oh I – ” He feels the heat of a blush rising and he looks at the floor.

“It’s okay.” Sanghyuk says, a hint of amusement in his voice, “It’s been ages since we saw you down here, that’s all.”

“What?” Wonshik looks again, searching for something in Sanghyuk’s eyes, “It’s been only, what, four, five days at most?”

He thinks he sees something pass through Sanghyuk’s eyes, something like concern, but Wonshik could never be sure, not when the boy is walking in his direction and placing a firm hand on his shoulders, guiding him behind the counter and through a back door that leads to what could only be a ‘coffee break’ room.

Sanghyuk sits Wonshik down on an old and worn out red sofa that feels very very uncomfortable and proceeds to sit on a wooden high chair that’s right beside. Across from them, there’s another atrocity of a furniture: a reclined chair with ugly embroidered flowers and, surprisingly, someone tucked in and probably sleeping.

Wonshik squints at Sanghyuk, pointing at the person.

The boy only brushes him off: “Don’t worry, it’s only Jaehwan.”

“Why is he here?” He says, shifting his position, trying to find the right angle to sit on this madness of a sofa, it turns out it’s impossible no matter how much he tries, so he resigns.

“Why wouldn’t he? He was tired.”

“Uh.”

Wonshik wants to ask a thousand things, starting with ‘why did you bring me to this room’ to ‘please help me with my haunted house’, but Sanghyuk was always the one to answer things without actually answering.

“But you know,” Sanghyuk starts out of nowhere, “I only sell the stuff people actually need, so that’s why.”

It takes a while for Wonshik to remember what he was referring to.

“So you’re telling me someone actually need those ugly dollhouses?”

“They’re not _that_ ugly.”

The bundle of limbs on the other chair stirs, and Jaehwan’s voice, still muffled by sleep, echoes through the room: “Yeah they are.”

“See? He agrees with me.”

Sanghyuk frown deepens, “He doesn’t know anything.”

But there was something in Sanghyuk’s words that stirred Wonshik’s attention.

“But hey,” He says out loud, “what did you mean by selling things that people need? Like, I get that food and pharmacy stuff are needed but I have seen some weird shit out there.”

Sanghyuk only stares at him.

“Like,” At loss for words, Wonshik continues, “if I needed something like huh, a Playstation 2 because I’m feeling nostalgic, would you have it?”

Sanghyuk chuckles, and maybe it’s the first time Wonshik hears that sound coming out of the boy.

“Would you actually need a Playstation, Wonshik?”

“Probably not.”

“See, that’s why I don’t have it. What you actually need is some real food and maybe.” Sanghyuk stops mid-phrase, a question hanging in the air, “You didn’t come here only for supplies, did you?”

Jaehwan stirs some more, his face appearing in the mess of cushions and sheets. His eyes are still closed when he says:

“Wonshik is afraid.”

“I’m not.” He instantly shoots back, startling even himself.

Both Sanghyuk and Jaehwan raise their eyebrows at him, Sanghyuk more sternly, while a smile crosses Jaehwan’s face.

“Why are you so afraid?”

Wonshik shakes his head, denying without words.

“Fear is… fear is good, sometimes.” Jaehwan says in his slurry slumbery words, “It’s connected with our intuition and all, but, you know, most of the times, fear just makes us _not do_ things. Like, when prey animals get frozen in their spot when they see a predator? That’s fear. But in your case, my dear Wonshik, I would advise you to just let it go.”

“Let go of what?”

Sanghyuk stands, walking in front of them and disappearing behind yet another door, different from the one they had come in from.

Jaehwan watches lazily until the click of the closing door resonates.

“It takes five to make a change.” He says, straightening himself.

By this position Wonshik can see that Jaehwan is shirtless, embarrassment crosses his mind and he wonders why, but then he’s taken aback by Jaehwan’s voice and his senseless words:

“We were once five, but, for a very long time we stayed as four. Now the five is back, isn’t it, Wonshik?”

His head spins, and, surprisingly, he feels like he’s gonna pass out.

It’s only the fact that the couch is still very uncomfortable that makes him focus on Jaehwan’s eyes.

He doesn’t understand a single thing that has been said to him so he almost gets up, thoughts of asking for help long forgotten.

But.

Sanghyuk walks into the room again, holding a bag in one hand and a small box in the other, he looks at Jaehwan and shakes his head.

“You need to stop talking.”

Jaehwan, in turn, fakes a gasp: “I wasn’t even saying anything.”

Sanghyuk doesn’t even pay him attention, turning to Wonshik and holding out his hands, offering the things to Wonshik. He can take them or not.

The bag contains the usual, he can see the single bottle of milk and the ramen packets through the thin plastic. Just the normal items on his grocery list. But the box, the box is another thing entirely.

“What is this?”

Sanghyuk places the box in his hand.

“Just take it.”

Wonshik does as he’s told, gripping the box firmly, and opening it.

There sits a single silver thin chain, a necklace, probably, but so thin it almost gets lost in the blackness of the box.

“What’s this?” He asks, he needs to.

“It’s for you. You need it.”

He hears Jaehwan laughing on the other side of the room and he sees Sanghyuk eyeing him with distress.

“Please take it and use it.”

And Wonshik never heard Sanghyuk’s voice waver that much.

So, he takes the necklace and clasps it behind his head, resigned to just accept what’s been offered to him.

“I will try not to be afraid.” He finally says, getting up from the couch and heading to the door he’s almost sure will lead him back to the shop. “Thank you, you two.”

He kindly bows, not knowing why, and rushes out.

Everything was so fucking weird already.

☾

The silver chain gives Wonshik some kind of comfort.

Not that a single object could help his anxiety or fears, but it’s mostly the _belief_ that it might help.

Belief is not something to take lightly, he knows that, because he’s always had faith in his music, and it was that faith that lead him to where he is now.

As he drives along the narrow road, he can see the sun starting to set on the horizon, and it’s a time of wonder, as the skies get tinted all gold and pink. It’s beautiful, reminding Wonshik of fire and smoke. Reminding him of pale hands and black eyes.

Fear, like most things, has also a connection with belief.

He parks his car and, as he gets out, he stares at the entrance of the forest and the pile of burnt wood that’s still there. He takes one, two steps ahead, the scent of mud and forest enveloping him, bringing up a delight from the bottom of his heart.

He shouldn’t be afraid of unknown things, unknown beings.

Not when apparently they didn’t mean any harm.

With a deep breath, he closes his eyes and lets himself feel, the last sun rays of the day touching his skin, the chill air, the forest.

If Wonshik could believe there’s nothing to be afraid of, well, then there wouldn’t be.

☾

It takes another couple of days for the noises to be back in the house. They surprise Wonshik, especially because, unlike the other times, the noises start early at night.

His eyes are already unfocused on the computer screen, little tears of tiredness pooling on the sides. He’s been working on this particular track for far too long.

And it’s only, what? Midnight?

He looks at the clock on his cellphone, and everything is just too blurry, the knocks on the front door getting louder and louder.

He senses – or maybe he imagines it, he isn’t sure – the silver chain on his neck starting to prickle on his skin. Some kind of warning, perhaps.

But Wonshik will not be afraid, not this time.

He gets up from his chair, and looks at his computer with some kind of longing. He will be back soon, hopefully. Then, with wide, confident strides, he heads to the front door.

Unlike what he was expecting, there are no flickering lights, there are no whispers.

There’s only… one, two, three knocks.

Wonshik freezes, not knowing exactly what to do.

Do spirits even need to knock?

After what seemed like thirty seconds (and yes, Wonshik is counting), the knocks begin again.

One two three.

And then it stops.

The chain burns on his neck and Jaehwan’s words echo in his mind. Why are you so afraid?

_Why, indeed._

He takes one, two, three steps to the door and holds the doorknob, feeling the cold metal on his hands.

For a brief moment, he wonders if courage and foolishness aren’t, in the end, the same thing.

They probably are.

Wonshik holds his breath as he opens the heavy front door, bracing himself for whatever is on the other side.

What he sees is not what he was expecting, but also what he did.

White hair, pale skin, black eyes. A raised arm, probably about to knock again.

The sight of the creature makes Wonshik shiver and he entertains the idea of just closing the door and never opening it up ever again.

But, one may call it fear, or foolishness.

Courage.

Wonshik stays there, staring at the creature that, as more time passes, looks just like a normal (and yet very pretty) human. Besides the odd hair color and the searching eyes, the creature is wearing very casual clothes, if Wonshik could be judging strange creatures who bang on his door late at night. But yeah, he kind of can, he thinks, so he stares and judges the black jeans with holes on the knees and the baggy hoodie with some kind of metal band name on the front.

In all honesty, the person who’s standing right in front of him doesn’t look at all like a spirit who came to haunt him.

And yet, and yet, there’s the eyes and all the staring and.

“So it’s you.” The person, creature, whatever, says.

And the voice sounds so small and soft.

“Yes?” Wonshik tries.

“I’ve been – I’ve been knocking on your door for days now.”

That makes Wonshik furrow his brows. What?

Throwing caution out of the window, he asks: “You. You’ve been knocking on my door almost daily at late hours of the night?”

“Oh. Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize it was that late.” The person-thing says, looking at everywhere but Wonshik.

“Why?” He replies, sounding on edge even to his ears.

The person-thing-man (it’s a man now, Wonshik can see it clearly thanks to the dim lights of the porch) turns his face, looking somewhat embarrassed.

“You’re very loud.”

“Loud.”

The man nods shyly and then realization downs on Wonshik. His music. Of course he had never thought of soundproofing the studio or the house, he has no neighbors. Not that he knows of. There’s only the house, the forest and the muddy road to the city.

That single fact makes this whole situation clearly suspicious, so he squints, fear be damned, he suddenly has the energy to fight whatever it is that is in front of him, complaining about his music – of all things.

“Who are you again?”

The man shakes his head, “I told you, the other night.”

Wonshik keeps silent, too stunned by this whole ordeal.

“My name is Taekwoon, I live… I live nearby and the loud sounds you –” The man stops, finally locking his eyes with Wonshik, “The loud sounds you make? They disturb my children.”

“Your children?”

Fuck, Wonshik is completely lost in this conversation.

What does one do in this kind of situation? What’s the best course of action?

He could, for one, shut the door and forget about it all. But, then again, he presumes the knocks wouldn’t stop, if anything, they could get louder. If he had learned something from this man called Taekwoon (if he was a man at all), it was that he was definitely persistent. And obviously, there was the problem that, if this Taekwoon person was an evil spirit of some sorts, Wonshik could easily die.

Even with the blatant lie of living nearby, there was only one path Wonshik could walk: the path of politeness.

“Uh, forget that, do you wanna come in?” Wonshik says, stepping aside and giving space for the man to enter the house.

When Taekwoon gives him a shy smile in return, Wonshik can only think of how screwed he is.

☾

Wonshik considers himself a lucky man when, right at the moment he stumbles into the kitchen with Taekwoon in tow, he remembers that Sanghyuk’s supply package for the week had included a very not-usual box of green tea.

Making tea is easy, and who’s uncivilized enough to not like tea? No one, not even evil spirits that claim to be humans and living just ‘nearby’.

Not that he considers Taekwoon an evil spirit. Not yet, anyway.

And he looks so human, in his ethereal beauty, sitting on one of the wooden stools of the kitchen and just looking at everything in awe.

Maybe, just maybe, Taekwoon was just as lost as Wonshik in this big cruel world.

But he doesn’t have time to dwell on that thought much, the water starts to boil and, soon, he’s serving a perfect cup of green tea to Taekwoon, and one for himself.

They sip in silence, and it could be comfortable, if it wasn’t for the slightest embarrassment Wonshik keeps feeling whenever he looks at the other man.

So, instead of silence, he opts for talking, babbling, most likely.

Wonshik talks, and he talks about the only thing he truly knows, which is music.

He talks about sounds and passion and bridges and beats. In return, Taekwoon just nods, making little sounds of ‘ohs’ and ‘ahs’.

By the time the clock hits three in the morning, there are no whispers, no odd sounds, which could be expected given that the supposed source of those scary things is sitting right next to Wonshik, head leaned to the side, eyes barely kept open.

Wonshik blames the tea for the softness he feels, or, perhaps the company, having someone to listen.

“It’s late,” he says to Taekwoon, who seems like he’s about to fall asleep at any moment now, “you should go.”

“Ah, okay.”

And again with the soft answers.

Wonshik leads the way to the front door, and sees the other man outside.

The night is freezing cold, so much so that he shivers as he says: “I will fix the noise problem okay?”

Taekwoon only blinks in response, and Wonshik watches as he walks into the forest and just… disappears in the shadows of the trees.

☾

“You need to soundproof this room?” Hakyeon says, exasperated, staring at the walls of Wonshik’s so-called ‘studio’.

It’s only the day after the strange encounter with Taekwoon, but, because Wonshik had wanted to solve the problem once and for all, he had called Hakyeon as soon as he woke up.

Hakyeon is the man who fixes things, Hongbin had once told him in the middle of a blurred conversation. It was only logical to call the man for this kind of job, right?

“Well.”

“Why?” Hakyeon turns to him, eyes wide, “It’s not like anyone can hear whatever you do in here. You’re miles away from civilization.”

Wonshik sighs. How one explains that apparently there’s some sort of hermit or a cryptic spirit who gets annoyed by his music? One does not. So Wonshik builds a lie out of nowhere.

“Look, it’s – it’s a matter of safety, okay?”

_Is that even a lie?_

Hakyeon places his hands on Wonshik’s shoulders, “Safety from what?”

“Huh. Copyright stealing?”

“Goddess, you are an anxious boy, aren’t you?”

And that statement should make him mad, sad, or even embarrassed, but, in his current situation, he only feels relief.

“The question is: can you do it?”

Hakyeon scoffs, putting his hands on his hips: “Who do you take me for?”

“Huh.”

“Shoo, shoo.” Hakyeon replies, guiding Wonshik out of the studio’s room, down to the corridors and out of the house, “I, the great Cha Hakyeon, will fix your problem with sounds.”

Wonshik stares at the fallen brown leaves scattering through the entrance. The whole calmness of the day a complete contrast of how his life has been going so far. He can’t help but give a big, tired sigh.

“You didn’t even bring tools to work with.”

“As if I needed tools!” Hakyeon says, pushing Wonshik forward and guiding him to his old dusty car, “Hop it! Go and pay Hongbin a visit, I don’t know, but let me do my work.”

With some sort of amusement, Wonshik chuckles.

“Right, right.”

He gets in his car, turning on the engine and the heater.

It’s getting colder each day, but.

He waves at Hakyeon as he drives off to the little road that will lead him to the city.

It feels kind of weird, to trust a man like Hakyeon with his house, but, at the same time, it also doesn’t. That is, surely, a common feeling whenever he thinks of the four men he had met in this strange place.

Wonshik makes a curve, descending the mountain slowly, his car making awful noises whenever there’s a bump. The road is narrow and way too old, in need of repairs of some sorts. That thought takes his mind elsewhere, and Wonshik begins to wonder about the forest, the giant thing that almost engulfs the road, almost engulfs his tiny car.

With another curve, Wonshik sees how the big ancient trees go up so high, their foliage burning in shades of red and brown. Autumn is getting old already, ending, and in the winter… in the winter, what will Wonshik do?

He feels fear again, and this time it’s the kind of fear that he hates the most, because it isn’t irrational, it isn’t the cold dark fear that makes his mind go blank, no. This kind of fear is more real, palpable. The fear of doing everything wrong. The fear of not knowing where to go.

Wonshik shivers despite himself, gripping the wheel with force.

On top of it all – of not knowing, of the confusion, of the future – he is silently reminded of the strange encounter of last night, of Taekwoon.

The white of his hair and the blackness of his eyes.

Wonshik also fears that.

☾

The streets of the city are quite empty, as they usually are. But, for the first time, Wonshik doesn’t find that odd. He’s probably adjusting to the small city life, or something.

But the wind blows, shaking his entire frame and something feels amiss. He can’t quite pinpoint what exactly but there is something _wrong_. He feels it as the silver chain on his neck starts to tingle and he feels it when he looks around. Suddenly, the sensation of being completely lost downs upon him.

The houses, stores, the sidewalk and the street all look unnatural and gloomy. As if a grey veil had started to surround every corner.

And Wonshik sees no one. No passerby, no car, no noise.

Far away he hears the undistinguishable cry of a raven. It reverberates everywhere, making Wonshik’s heart beat faster.

He walks, speed walks, through the empty streets, the scenery getting darker and darker.

The buildings look older, decaying, dust and peeling paint falling everywhere and oh.

Wonshik’s so lost.

He hears the raven again and the silver chain burns around his neck.

And he hears the whispers, too.

Knocking sounds, but this time, they seem more like steps just behind him.

Wonshik runs.

He runs and he sees all the leaves from the trees disappearing, he sees the branches getting thinner, sharper, just like blades.

Wonshik’s lost and he runs.

And he’s sure he hears the footsteps following him.

☾

There’s the sound of clinking glasses and a low hum in the background, and there’s the sound of wind hitting the windows, and a door opening.

That’s what makes Wonshik open one of his eyes and stare at the dark wood of the counter that was undoubtfully from Hongbin’s bar.

With a tired sigh, he opens the other eye and stares, quite blankly, at the shelves filled with bottles of alcohol and glasses of many kinds. In his daze, he entertains the idea that this is, in fact, a pretty resourceful bar, given its location.

He also entertains the idea of drinking, something strong, something that would burn his throat.

He thinks he needs that kind of sensation.

And that’s when it hits, the reality of his situation.

Wonshik sits up straight, looking at everywhere.

Through the big windows, he can see that the sun is still shining, coloring the whole place with a warm glow. And he sees Hongbin, too, rearranging some bottles from the shelves, and singing slowly.

So that’s where the hum was coming from.

Hongbin turns, walking up to Wonshik and placing a firm hand on his forehead. He still feels too sleepy and dazed to lean back or say something, so he just lets Hongbin examine him. Hands touch his face and neck, going down his shoulders.

It’s the kind of contact that Wonshik hadn’t had for a long time, and it feels strangely soft. As if Hongbin was truly worried.

_Worried about what._

“Goddess, you’re finally awake.” Hongbin murmurs, eyes wide.

“What?” He replies, tilting his head to the side.

“We found you passed out right in the middle of the main street, you caused quite a ruckus for the poor people of this city, although the old ladies were happy to help.” Hongbin says, finally smiling.

“I what?” Wonshik asks a little desperate, “How?”

“I don’t know, Jaehwan was the one that found you though, he just called me to help bring you here. But yeah,” He turns to look at Wonshik, eyes blinking fast, “you were just there… lying in the middle of the street. You’re lucky that nothing ever really happens in this town and people actually stopped their cars and everything.”

“Oh.”

Hongbin raises his eyebrows, a question lingering in the air.

“Do you remember anything?”

Wonshik leans his head on the counter again, not wanting to keep this conversation going. He was already embarrassed enough at being found passed out like that.

But he does remember, of course he does.

He remembers the empty streets and the blackness and the shivers and the –

“No.”

“Good.” Hongbin replies, giving him a warm smile with dimples and everything. “I think you need some fresh air, are you up to a walk?”

He nods quickly. A walk sounded wonderful, especially if accompanied.

Hongbin guides him outside the bar, locking it with an old golden key.

They walk beside each other, falling easily in each other’s footsteps. The day is bright, the sun just falling on the horizon. And it’s easy to see everything, the pink clouds, the blue skies, the first stars here and there. It’s easy because, unlike his own city, this place lacks the big buildings and skyscrapers.

It lacks other things too.

As he walks beside Hongbin, he watches the small shops closing their windows and doors, he watches the brick streets filled with moss and pigeons. And he also watches as some store owners gather in front of their shops to decorate them with Christmas lights.

Winter is approaching, it seems.

They reach a small park, with green benches and small trees, almost leafless except for the pines. It’s quite lovely, and, without any words, they decide to sit and watch the movement.

Wonshik sees a family walking, the kids laughing and playing with each other while the couple hold hands, and he sees as the night falls, the lights from the lamp posts turning on, coloring the whole view with a yellow light.

It feels warm and cozy, but mostly, it feels human and normal.

The wind picks up, making him shiver slightly.

“Are you cold? We can go back.”

“No, please.” He replies, not wanting to stay inside, not yet.

Hongbin hums, seeming deep in thought.

Wonshik knows there’s something Hongbin wants to say, he can feel it, especially by the way the other man creases his eyebrows and turns his head away from him.

After a few minutes in silence, with the night rightfully arriving, Hongbin finally voices his thoughts:

“Wonshik, you know you can talk to me, right? I know we’re not very close but, but if you need someone, I’m here, I can listen.”

“Hm thank you?”

“I’m serious.” Hongbin says, leaning back on the bench and releasing a sigh, “You stay up there all alone for days, and that worries all of us.”

“Us?”

Hongbin shifts, facing Wonshik and burying his face in the red scarf around his neck.

“Our little family, me and Hakyeon, Sanghyuk and Jaehwan.”

Wonshik blinks in surprise, “I didn’t know you were all related.”

Far away, he hears the laugh of some children, distracting him.

“Well, we are and aren’t. It’s complicated. But I consider them family, yes. What about you? Your family?”

He breaks his gaze, opting to look at the streets. Some old cars pass by and, in overall, that calms his mind a little.

Far away he hears the wind blowing and scattering the dried leaves on the ground.

Well.

“My family is… difficult.”

Hongbin nods, motioning for him to keep going.

“I mean, there probably are worse families. God. I know there are. Mine is actually normal.”

“What do you mean?” Hongbin slowly asks, almost a whisper.

“To be fairly honest, it’s just a normal, common story: mom and dad fell in love, had two children, me and my sister, and then, after three years of a happy marriage, they decided they didn’t love each other like that anymore, so they got a divorce. And it wasn’t nasty or anything, they still keep in touch. I remember that, when we were younger, my father came to see us every week and all.” Wonshik hurriedly says, catching his breath. It had been years since he talked about his family. “But it went like that, mom found another man. Dad found another woman. Both of them started a new family. Even my sister, she got married as soon as she could. In the end, I was just there.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, not very interesting. Sorry.”

He rests his head on the back of the bench and stares at the stars. The night had fully settled, making it possible to finally see all the bright dots of the stars, together with a small crescent moon.

The night, at least, is beautiful.

“Do you still talk to them?” Hongbin asks, oh so careful, placing a hand on Wonshik’s shoulders.

“Yeah, I do. When I have the time and patience. Every year I go to my mom’s house for Christmas. This year we will be breaking tradition though.”

Hongbin’s hand gives his shoulder a light squeeze.

“You’re invited to our small party if you want, we actually don’t celebrate Christmas but we do gather on the 25th.”

Wonshik moves, tilting his head to the side, staring at Hongbin.

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be? If it’s awkward for you it’s okay too, but you shouldn’t stay alone too much up there.”

And he hears the truth pouring out from Hongbin’s words, making him smile despite himself.

“Thank you. Oh.” And that makes him remember something, “Can I ask you something?”

Hongbin looks beyond happy, taking Wonshik’s hands on his own and shaking them, “Of course! Anything.”

He breathes deeply, taking his hands out of Hongbin’s grip.

“Are there any other people living up there? In the mountain?”

It’s a much needed question, one that could solve at least one of Wonshik’s problems. Maybe.

But Hongbin gets silent for far too long, and Wonshik worries.

“Hey, huh.” He tries.

“No.” Hongbin waves his hands in front of him, “It’s an odd question. I don’t really know for sure. There are many houses there, but they usually are just occupied during summer, you know.”

“Of course.”

“Why?”

“Hm, nothing.” He lies, “I was just curious.”

“Curious… well, if you see anything unusual, tell us, alright?” Hongbin says, getting up from the bench and offering his arm so Wonshik can follow, “As I said before, it’s not wise for you to be stuck all alone there.”

“Right.”

☾

Wonshik gets home late at night, having stayed with Hongbin for a few hours more.

When he arrives, the moon is already right in the middle of the sky, barely illuminating the little pathway that leads to the front door of the house.

He doesn’t see Hakyeon’s truck anywhere, an indication that the man had definitely finished his job, and he takes the necessary steps to go inside, basking in the warm feeling that this house – _his house_ – brings up in him.

It’s late, and the whole ordeal of the day made him more tired than expected. He still feels a little out of it, going through all those experiences in less than twenty-four hours. However, there’s something inside of him, maybe inside of his heart, that makes him turn. Instead of going straight to the bedroom, he opens the door of the studio, not noticing any real difference in its state.

But Hakyeon must have done something, because Wonshik sits on the comfortable chair, turns on his computer and, after holding his breath for a while, starts to work on his music without a single bother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Favorite line from this chapter: "Even with the blatant lie of living nearby, there was only one path Wonshik could walk: the path of politeness. "
> 
> lol
> 
> I hope everyone is enjoying it so far? There's still a long way to go, but it's kinda of fun, isn't it?
> 
> Always sending much love xx


	4. Autumn III

It is said that, after a storm, the winds calm down.

In some ways, that’s how Wonshik feels as the days start to become shorter and the nights, well, the nights become longer. And, with November ending and December bringing even colder days and the warm feeling of a year finally ending, Wonshik feels happy, too.

Because he’s creating, making, becoming.

His works are still scattered, not making much sense together. There’s still something lacking that he can’t quite exactly pinpoint.

But, creating, he is, nonetheless.

And, on top of it all, there are no more strange things happening, for which he is glad.

It’s on days like these, when it’s cold outside and the sky is filled with grey clouds; when everybody is tucked inside, fireplaces lit and nothing is really happening, that he wonders if whatever happened in the beginning of autumn was just his imagination. Some sort of illusion or delusion of his mind.

He wonders, but he doesn’t think much.

He fears that, if he starts thinking too much about it, they will appear again. _He_ will appear again.

So, Wonshik keeps quiet, enjoying whatever he can enjoy.

The naked trees and the birds, Hongbin serving him a nice glass of whiskey or Hakyeon coming at night to chat; Sanghyuk demanding him to go down to the city and grab his stuff, Jaehwan talking about music.

It’s quiet, and nice.

And, maybe, everything he had ever wanted.

☾

But, there’s another thing that people often forget to say. After the calm, there’s always a storm waiting for you.

It all starts with Jaehwan.

Or rather, it starts with the vibrations of his phone on top of the wooden desk of his studio, making the scattered papers filled with empty lyrics shake all over. It ends up waking up Wonshik from the little nap he was enjoying so much.

With much effort, he grumbles and opens one of his eyes, seeing that he is, indeed, not dreaming but actually receiving a phone call – of all things.

The phone slips from his fingers two times before he manages to answer it, and he’s greeted with a loud laugh.

“Oh so now you pick up!”

“Who’s this?” Wonshik answers, voice still muffled by sleep.

“What kind of question is that? Is this how you treat your dearest friend? You wound me.”

“Jaehwan please,” He squints, shaking the mouse pad to wake up the screen of the computer and see what time it is, “it’s one in the morning, what do you want?”

Jaehwan giggles on the other side of the line: “I left you a gift on your doorstep! Why don’t you go there and find out what it is?”

“Oh. My. God.”

He thinks of cursing, he thinks of mocking Jaehwan, he thinks of many things but before he can say anything, Jaehwan cuts the line, and he’s left with only the dead end beep of the phone.

Well, it’s not like he has anything else to do now. And he _is_ curious. So, with some reluctance of his tired body, he gets up and walks to the front door, taking his sweet time to stare at the empty walls in the process.

He is curious, but not that much.

In the moment he finally arrives, placing a hand on the doorknob, he hears a soft knock coming from the other side.

He laughs, mostly to himself, opening the door with ease, smiling and saying: “Jaehwan you will catch a cold if –”

But it’s not Jaehwan who’s standing right in front of him, oh no, it’s someone who Wonshik thought he would never see again. White hair, black eyes.

“Oh.” Wonshik lets out.

Taekwoon looks at him shyly, holding in his hands a big tupperware and shivering slightly. Right next to his feet, Wonshik sees a box, a simple brown box with childish drawings of Santa Claus and stars, with big black letters written:

FROM JAEHWAN TO PRECIOUS WONSHIK.

Oh.

With some kind of courage – and sleep still clouding his mind – Wonshik crouches to get the box.

“Did Jaehwan sent you too?” He asks when he’s on his feet again, eyes trained on the other’s face.

But Taekwoon seems as lost as Wonshik feels.

“Huh, no?” He answers in his small voice, still shivering.

And Wonshik, well, Wonshik can’t possibly let someone die from the cold right on his doorstep, not even a strange man who appeared out of nowhere, so he invites Taekwoon inside, with the promise of tea.

He leads him to the kitchen, Jaehwan’s box still in his hands, Taekwoon holding his tupperware like a lifeline.

And silently, Wonshik begins to heat the water for the promised tea. Moving in the kitchen and pretending a strange man isn’t sitting on one of the stools of the counter observing his every move.

It’s unsettling, and Wonshik feels himself blush.

“So…” Wonshik begins, tired of the floating silence, “What are you doing here?”

Taekwoon shifts on his seat, probably uncomfortable as well.

But no answer comes, and the water for their tea starts to boil, making that pitchy noise and surrounding them with things to do. Or, surrounding Wonshik, because Taekwoon doesn’t move, in fact, he gets even more still as Wonshik grabs two bags of green tea and two white mugs.

The art of making tea, apparently, has everything to do with pouring down boiling water into two mugs and waiting. Maybe it has more to do with the waiting than the actual tea, maybe Wonshik is just too tired to think. He passes one mug to Taekwoon and decides to sit just beside him, not caring for personal space or the dangers of getting close to someone who he doesn’t really know.

Jaehwan’s box is still standing right in front of him, the drawings mocking him in some way; Taekwoon firmly grips his Tupperware, and everything is so strange. Wonshik groans, placing his face on the countertop and staring at Taekwoon from down there.

“Don’t you like the tea?” He asks, feeling the cold surface of the counter on half of his face and closing his eyes. He’s way too tired.

Taekwoon shifts some more, and with him, the atmosphere in the room.

It feels like a veil is being uncovered, or something like that.

“Oh no,” Taekwoon replies softly, sipping the tea with an elegance Wonshik didn’t know the other had, “I love the tea, thank you.”

He straightens himself, taking the other mug in his hands and feeling the heat spreading through his hands. It feels nice, almost cozy.

“You’re welcome.”

“I – I brought you this.” Taekwoon says, pushing the tupperware onto Wonshik’s face.

He widens his eyes.

“What?”

He sees Taekwoon blushing, but maybe is the steam coming from the mug. Maybe it’s the cold, or the heat. He doesn’t know.

“It’s just… a thank you gift.”

A thank you gift? Now Wonshik is curious, even more than he was before, so he opens the lid and stares at the six cupcakes that are placed inside.

He blinks some more, somewhat stunned.

“Don’t you like it? I’m sorry, not everyone likes… huh. Cakes.”

But Wonshik’s not listening to Taekwoon, he’s still staring at the cupcakes as if they would jump out and eat him.

“…why?”

Taekwoon chuckles – actually chuckles – and places a hand on Wonshik’s shoulders.

He feels heat spreading throughout his whole body, making him focus his gaze again on the other man.

“The loud sounds, they stopped. So, thank you.”

Oh.

He gives the other man a true smile, not knowing how to respond to that. And they sip their tea in silence, which should be weird, but it isn’t. It feels comfortable and homey, as it should be. After some minutes or hours, Taekwoon gets up, saying that he should go. Wonshik nods, guiding the man to the front door again.

And it’s late, too late into the night. Maybe that’s what makes Wonshik says:

“Come back whenever you want, for more tea, or whatever.”

The wind blows and Taekwoon looks up to the sky, filled with stars.

“Okay.” He answers, lips forming a little grin.

☾

The morning after greets Wonshik with clear skies and a freezing temperature.

It also greets him with coffee and homemade cupcakes that taste overly sweet.

And, Jaehwan’s box, which he finally opens after inspecting it for far too long.

Inside there’s a letter, telling Wonshik that he’s the guest of honor to some Christmas party to be held on Hongbin’s bar. Inside the box there’s also a Santa Claus costume, which Wonshik promptly ignores.

He never liked Christmas anyways. Thoughts of too many awkward meals with his family pass through his mind, making him shiver.

Christmas was never a happy celebration, but, maybe, this year he can change that.

And, it’s with hope in his heart and a smile on his face that he decides to take a walk outside, to explore, to _see_. The urge to move his body too great to be ignored.

The weather is perfect, even if it’s too cold. And the forest, and the trees. He doesn’t feel scared by them at all. The scent of wood and mud, the songs from the birds, the rustling and the wind, everything adds up to make a beautiful morning.

So, Wonshik starts to walk, right into the forest, right into the heart of all the things he had always feared.

It’s morning and the sun is shining, nothing to fear, nothing to lose.

So he walks, going deeper and deeper, observing the trunks of the trees and the moss and all the grey and scattered green. He supposes the forest must be beautiful in summer. But, right now, it’s only grey and muddy and.

And it’s beautiful all the same.

So he walks. Forward and forward, always.

It takes quite some time for him to start feeling tired, and it takes some more time for him to realize he has no fucking clue of his whereabouts.

Wonshik walks and, in the process, he gets lost.

At first, he doesn’t get desperate, it’s foolish to do so and he knows, of course he does. To give himself to desperation would only mean to get even more lost.

He takes one, two, three steady breaths. To calm his mind and soul, and then he takes his cellphone out of his pocket. The screen is black, no battery, nothing.

Fuck.

He breathes some more, looking everywhere.

There’s only leafless trees and mud and moss.

And the wind.

He closes his eyes, trying to feel.

He blinks, thinking of looking at the sun, to guide him, to _something_.

However, as a man from the big city, he doesn’t have any idea about where his house is settled, if it’s in the West or the East, if it’s in the South or the North.

Wonshik decides to keep walking. He will reach some place at some point, right?

It seems like hours pass, swiftly and quickly, until his feet hurt and his back seems too heavy. The sun’s still high on the horizon and he’s completely and utterly lost.

He kind of wants to lay down right in the mud and just cry.

He entertains that idea, taking his cellphone out again and cursing at the object. Well, at least he still has the energy to do that.

In the corner of his eyes, he sees a light, something red, something shining. He blinks and the light disappears, but he sees a single red leaf on the ground.

As he crouches to pick it up, a little mesmerized by the sight of it so late in autumn, he hears shuffling, rustling. Footsteps.

Wonshik freezes. Like a deer awaiting for the wolf to come, like a prey, like a –

The footsteps stop, just right behind him, and he thinks he should start praying, he thinks of god or anything holy, but on his mind there’s only the blackness of the void.

He never was a religious man, after all. It figures that no one would come to save him in these desperate times.

And, even if he was, he doubts that some saint would come down from the heavens to do anything about his situation.

He holds his breath.

And…

“Wonshik?”

He hears it, clear as a river in summer, bright as the flowers on spring. His name chanted by the softest voice possible.

“Wonshik, what are you doing here?”

The voice says, barely a whisper.

He moves his head to the side, half-eyeing the man who’s standing behind him.

The sun is right behind them, creating some sort of golden aura all around Taekwoon, making his white hair seem like a gentle fire. His eyes, well, they are as black as they always were.

Still crouched, but feeling some sort of relief passing through his veins, Wonshik grabs the red leaf and shows to Taekwoon, grinning, trying to hide how his heart is still beating fast.

“Look what I found.”

Taekwoon looks at him as if he were insane, which was probably right. But he has to do _something_ , he doesn’t want to admit he had nearly been crying, seconds ago.

Taekwoon tilts his head to the side, strands of hair falling in his eyes, “Well, that’s unusual.”

They both stare at the single leaf on Wonshik’s hands. But not actually, at least not Wonshik, instead, he opts to stare at the other man across of him.

Bathed in the sunlight, Taekwoon seems more real than ever, wearing black and white clothes, boots all covered in dirt, grey trench coat with tiny leaves stuck here and there.

“Stop staring.”

He squints his eyes, looking at the ground. Mud and dirt stare back at him.

“I was not staring.”

He hears a small chuckle.

“Of course. Now, take your red leaf and let’s go back, the sun is already setting.”

Wonshik looks at the skies which are starting to get tinted in pink and soft orange.

How long had he been walking for?

“Right.”

He moves, right foot first, but a hand touches his shoulder and a warm smile is directed towards him.

“This way, Wonshik.” Taekwoon says, pointing at the other side.

He holds his pride and follows. Not knowing if he should trust him or not, forest becoming deeper and thicker at each step.

“You’re lucky I know my way around here.”

A twig gets stuck on Wonshik’s coat, and he grumbles while trying to keep up with Taekwoon’s pace.

“It’s not like I was lost, you know.” He replies back.

Taekwoon stops, almost making Wonshik fall.

“You’re not from here, I can see that. This forest is tricky, don’t be like that.”

A finger waves right in front of his vision and he can see the smugness on the other’s face and he _hates_ it, so he just keeps walking.

“Alright, forest boy, lead the way.”

He hears a low chuckle and feels an arm grabbing his own, “You’re going in the wrong direction again, here.”

And then Wonshik lets Taekwoon guide him, the forest getting thicker and thicker, the light from the sun barely reaching them.

At some point, Wonshik thinks that this is some sort of trap, because he can’t quite see the way out, and when he starts to feel fear again, the grabbing hands of anxiety just _pushing_ through his mind and making him think of terrible things, Taekwoon squeezes his arm just slightly and suddenly, they are walking right through his backyard.

He lets out a gasp, looking at the back of his house and at the empty swimming pool, the abandoned brick barbecue and the plastic chairs covered in spiderwebs.

“How…?” He says, more to himself than to the other man.

Taekwoon blinks at him, “It’s not wise to get in and get out through the same path, you know.”

But Wonshik barely hears him, too euphoric to finally be back, the night just settling in.

“Thank you.” He finally voices out, pride long forgotten. “Do you – huh- do you need anything?”

And it’s almost endearing, how Taekwoon’s demeanor changes the moment he steps out of the forest, shyness and embarrassment filling his features.

“Water? Maybe?”

Who’s Wonshik to deny his savior anything? He’s no one, probably. And he _feels_ something bubbling, something akin to madness. Water wouldn’t suffice to make him calm down, and the sky, with the tiny stars and clear milky way are just too beautiful to be sitting inside.

“What about… what about wine and. And stargazing?”

Taekwoon raises his eyebrows, hands playing with the ends of his coat.

“Why?”

Wonshik is already halfway to the back door when he answers: “Why not?”

☾

For all it’s worth, Wonshik’s plans of drinking wine while stargazing go smoothly. They had to clean up the chairs and grab some blankets, plus, the wine tasted overly sweet. Which was Sanghyuk’s fault, Wonshik thinks. The boy had told him it was the only kind of wine he had and he just knew it was a lie. However, it seemed to Taekwoon’s taste so.

So no harm done, yet.

But the silence, and the stars.

And the silence.

Wonshik is having way too many feelings to bear the silence that always downs upon them.

And he’s curious. And tipsy.

“Tell me about your forest life, forest boy.” He says, voice wavering at the edges.

After some hundred seconds, Taekwoon answers with: “I’m not from the forest you know, stop calling me that.”

He sips the sweet wine, trying to taste the mood in Taekwoon’s words.

The man is such a mystery.

“Tell me about you, then.”

He eyes Taekwoon’s side profile and he can see something akin to a grin there. So, not that bad.

“What do you want to know?”

“Your hair, is it real?”

He looks as Taekwoon shifts in the chair, facing him completely, “What?”

“I mean,” He shakes his head, “the color.”

“Oh.” The other man grabs one strand of hair into his hands, “Of course not, I bleach it. Why? Did you really think my hair was _white_?”

Wonshik feels himself blush and he’s grateful for the night and the distance between them.

“I don’t know.”

Taekwoon laughs, and it’s the first time he seems so free. It’s the wine, it can only be the wine.

“Goddess, you thought I was some sort of spirit or something?”

“That’s exactly what a spirit would say.”

The red wine shakes dangerously in Taekwoon’s glass as he laughs some more, “Are you perhaps a spirit specialist?”

“No, oh no.”

“Well,” Taekwoon says, voice getting softer, “tell me about you, what is a city man doing this far away from home?”

“I – uhm.”

A hand touches his shoulder, but Wonshik doesn’t look, opting to stare at his glass instead.

“It’s okay if you don’t wanna talk.”

“I came looking for peace, I guess.” He answers.

“Peace.”

“A refugee, of the craziness and stress of the big cities.”

Taekwoon hums in response and Wonshik finally looks at him.

In the dim lights of his backyard Taekwoon’s skin seem like it’s glowing, his cat-like eyes more black than ever. And he notices some other things, too. The small dot right under his left eye, the way his lips got tinted pink because of the wine, and, knowing that his white hair isn’t actually white, Wonshik can see the black roots just starting to grow. Taekwoon, so ethereal and dreamy, seemed more human than ever.

“Stop staring.”

“No.” He answers, pouting slightly, and he knows it’s the wine and he knows it’s the night, but he complies all the same, opting to look at the stars again. “Anyway, I was getting soaked on stress, it was getting really bad for my health and… well, this opportunity appeared, to be here until summer, so I grabbed it. It’s a good place to create, too, and, you know, music.”

“Oh, was the city that bad?”

“Kinda. Some people can do it, I did it for all my life and, honestly, only when I arrived here did I notice how silence is something precious.”

Taekwoon chuckles in response.

“What? Why are you laughing?”

“You aren’t quiet at all, please.” Taekwoon answers with a hint of amusement on his voice.

“Who says that? And look, that problem could be solved much earlier if you weren’t like, haunting my house in the fucking hours of the morning.”

They both laugh at that.

And it’s the wine, the redness and the sweetness of it, that makes both of them turn towards each other, still grinning.

“I wasn’t haunting you,” Taekwoon says a little exasperated, “I don’t have much of a notion of time, that’s all, I apologized. Also, my cats are much happier now.”

“Cats?”

“My children,” Taekwoon moves, grabbing his wallet from his back pocket and taking out two printed photos, “look at them.”

Wonshik looks, grabbing the pictures. They’re old and yellow at the edges, color fading. But he can see a white cat with thick fur in one, and a black and slim cat in the other. It’s odd, for someone to have pictures like that. And they seem so _old_.

“They’re cute.” He says, hands shaking a little, not quite understanding. But not wanting to understand either.

But Taekwoon seems satisfied, at least.

“You said you would be leaving in the summer? Why?”

A cold breeze passes right up on them and Wonshik shivers, sipping some more to see if he can grasp the warmness of it again.

“I have a contract. I will take care of the house until summer and then… well. Back to the city I guess.”

Just thinking of it makes him go all depressed, and he wants to forget, wants to think of better things, wants to think that by the beginning of summer, he will have at least enough songs to release an EP or something.

But he’s taken aback when, suddenly, he hears Taekwoon whisper right into his ear:

“You can stay if you want.”

And he holds his breath, waiting for something that doesn’t come. He hears movement from his side, hears as Taekwoon gets up, standing and leaving the glass of wine on the ground.

“I should go.” He says, not looking at Wonshik.

Wonshik doesn’t look at him either, feeling something odd that he can’t quite identify, but he speaks slowly, as he sees Taekwoon walking directly _into_ the forest:

“Hey, we… we should do this more, you know?”

The only response he gets it’s a wave and the glistering of Taekwoon’s hair.

It feels like enough.

☾

The end of autumn feels more like the beginning of something beautiful than the actual end of the season. The cold creeps in, but it’s filled with Christmas lights and fireplaces, hot coffees, and preparations for the festivities.

Around the small city, Wonshik sees kids playing, couples holding hands, old people chatting freely; and it’s a beautiful sight, so much so that the high spirits are almost contagious. Sanghyuk keeps adding more and more chocolate to his weekly shopping – even if Wonshik himself isn’t that much of a fan of sweet things; and Hongbin keeps making him leave the bar later and later at night, with excuses of wanting to keep someone around; Jaehwan keeps pestering him about the Santa Claus costume, telling him that it’s obligatory, since is his first Christmas with them.

And, there’s also Hakyeon, who keeps coming to his house right after sunset and leaving at midnight almost everyday, with excuses of fixing anything he could think at the moment. He doesn’t actually do anything other than to sit with Wonshik during those hours, talking about the weather or about the other boys. Sometimes, Hakyeon talks about his day, about the old ladies he’s helped. Sometimes, he just stays silent while Wonshik works on his music.

But the funny thing is, Wonshik is almost never alone, because as soon as Hakyeon leaves, there’s a knock on his door, and there’s always a flustered Taekwoon on the other side.

Then, there’s even more silence.

Silence filled with green tea, and some baked goods that Taekwoon made himself. And sometimes there’s low chuckles and private jokes between them.

Sometimes, Taekwoon gets curious and asks a thousand questions about music.

Sometimes, it’s Wonshik who gets interested in Taekwoon. And that’s how he finds out about the _beautiful_ voice the other man has.

It takes a total of three days for Wonshik to finally convince Taekwoon to sing for one of his songs.

It takes days, and almost a whole month, before autumn really ends, and Taekwoon, always looking somewhere else other than Wonshik’s eyes, asks him:

“Can I have you for the entirety of the 21st of December?”

And who’s Wonshik to say no to those deep black eyes?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you again Nini my saviour for helping me out and hearing me whine about the hardships of the english language. 
> 
> ah, it's monday and i'm feeling the monday blues, as i write this little end note i'm stuck in the madness of working at a law firm. everything is going crazy around here and..... sometimes that makes me think. about life, and choices. ah yes, i'm rambling, but the thing is... let's be hopeful from now on shall we? and expect good things for next year. 
> 
> magic is kinda real, and intention too. 
> 
> i'm sending all my love to whoever is reading this ♡
> 
> and if you ever want to find me, you know where to look:
> 
> @ [twitter](https://twitter.com/tttarkus) ♡
> 
> @ [tumblr](http://tttarkus.tumblr.com/) ♡


	5. Interlude: the blackness of your eyes;

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh, this is a little bit weird, maybe.
> 
> one of my big inspirations for this chapter was this song that's very unrelated to kpop: [link](https://open.spotify.com/track/60WI0RpQhFyXuyPvrPPFiH?si=gd1x1yT5QvWLEXbKBjdY8w)

It’s the day of the winter solstice when Wonshik wakes up. He knows that because, even with the dizziness and haziness of slumber still holding him in bed, he is reading the bright letters of the message Jaehwan has sent him.

It says: _beware of the longest night, do not come out, do not speak, stay inside with the prayers for the sun god to come out again_.

And then: _happy winter solstice my friend! Remember that after every nightfall, a new sun will rise!_

Which is pretty weird, but Jaehwan is weird, so Wonshik doesn’t think much about the words of warning.

What Wonshik doesn’t know can’t harm him in any way. And what Wonshik knows, with the bright sunlight streaming from outside the windows, is that he promised to spend the day with another weird guy who speaks a thousand times less.

And it’s with thoughts of Taekwoon and ominous cheerful messages on his mind that he gets dressed, opting for black and red and more black. Somehow, it seems fitting.

He casually goes through his day, just waiting. Waiting for knocks on his door, and for the sunset. He sits in his studio, watching the blank screen of his computer for what seems like hours.

It feels as though some kind of reverberating energy is inside of him, leaving him stunned, unmoving.

It’s the _anxiety_ , a voice, deep down tells him.

But what makes Wonshik so anxious? The prospects of spending some time with Taekwoon? The winter solstice? Or, maybe, deep down, the truth is that he’s aware of an end, the end. Of the season, or the year.

He stays there, doing nothing at all, just feeling the electricity in his body, his shaken legs, his moving fingers.

An eternity passes until there’s an actual knock on his studio’s door. Not the front door.

He jumps a little, fear clouding his mind until the knob turns and the door opens, showing a very much calm Taekwoon on the other side.

Wonshik takes a deep breath and observes, not trusting himself to speak, not yet. The man standing right at the door looks like he came directly from a ghost story, or something like that, with his white hair and pale complexion, wearing white and white and white, white pants and a white shirt and big – too big – white trench coat. It’s almost like the only color left on Taekwoon comes from his lips and his oh so black eyes. And, of course, the suspicious brown leather bag he's also carrying.

It feels like Wonshik is dreaming.

“Are you ready to go?” Taekwoon speaks, but it feels like a whisper.

“H-How did you come in?” is the only answer Wonshik can muster in that situation.

The response comes in slow blinks, as if Taekwoon was analyzing his whole soul.

“The front door was open.”

The blunt reply and the staring eyes are the things that make him move, so he gets up, grabbing his big red scarf and wrapping it around his neck.

“Where are we going?” He finally asks, when he’s already by Taekwoon’s side.

“Places.” Taekwoon says slowly, “We’re going to places.”

☾

Wonshik follows Taekwoon into the forest. He follows him because he doesn’t have any other option, and there’s no time for questionings or banter. They go into the thick woods, silently and swiftly.

After a good fifteen minutes without any words being exchanged, Wonshik starts to wonder if he has gone crazy altogether, or if he should trust the other man like this. The sun is going down, faster than what he had expected, and the forest looks eerie, filled with a dense fog and strange animal noises. The only thing that grounds him is the whiteness of Taekwoon ahead, seemingly more like a beacon of light in the somewhat dark inner spaces of the forest.

But, in his conflicted and scared mind, he jogs a little to catch up with the other man, placing a hand on his shoulders to make him stop.

The most unnerving thing, probably, is thinking back to Jaehwan’s message. _Do not come out do not speak._

Or, maybe, the most unnerving thing is the way Taekwoon’s eyes seem to glimmer and shine.

“What?”

The voice, soft, caressing Wonshik’s ears, makes him take a step back.

“Are we there yet?” He says, quite loudly, “The sun is setting and –”

Taekwoon tilts his head to the side, “I have flashlights.” He deadpans, pointing at his bag, “But we’re reaching the place soon.” And, after some heartbeats, he adds: “It’s alright. Don’t be afraid. Trust me.”

Wonshik doesn’t know if he can actually do that, but he nods.

And they keep walking.

And walking;

And –

And there’s a path, right in front of them, a path not made by humans, for sure, but with the actual trees and their twigs and branches opening and clearing the way for them to walk on, ahead and ahead. Pebbles are showing the way.

Wonshik is almost sure he’s in a very lucid dream when they finally reach their destination. Right at the top of the mountain, right on top of one big and immaculate grey rock.

Taekwoon is the first one to climb on top of it, with a fluidity that startles Wonshik a little. He holds out his hands, helping him to climb too.

The night settles gently around them, and Wonshik can finally _see_.

On top of the rock, he can see the small city right there, with its lights just beginning to shine; and there’s also the forest stretching forever in the horizon. He can see everything and, mostly, he can see the skies turning from dark purple to dark blue to black. And the stars, appearing one by one, like minuscule surprise gifts.

He doesn’t even notice when Taekwoon shakes him out of his daze, handing him a flashlight.

Wonshik blinks.

“We need some wood for the fire.”

It’s the only thing he says before he’s jumping off of the stone and going into the forest again.

That’s the moment when Wonshik’s fears come back again.

There are the stars and the small wonders of being on the summit, but there’s the darkness, too. It doesn’t help that he’s alone, and there’s a whole unknown forest surrounding him, engulfing him with its sounds and shadows and –

He hears footsteps, as loud as steps can be, making him turn. And he sees it is only Taekwoon in all his whiteness glory, carrying some twigs and woods, with some difficulty.

Wonshik curses himself mentally, climbing off of the rock and turning on his flashlight, helping Taekwoon with the wood.

Thanks to the faint light, he sees how Taekwoon’s outfit is already dirty. He notices some other things, too. Scratches on his face, a big rip on his trench coat.

Wonshik is too afraid to ask, so he just works on setting the wood on the ground, even though he doesn’t know why they’re doing what they’re doing.

It’s only when he finds himself satisfied with his work, already lighting the bonfire (a task he had learned well, he muses) that he sees Taekwoon on top of the rock again, lighting a single white candle there and skipping back to the ground.

This is the moment when things start to get weird.

Taekwoon lights another four candles and places them at a distance from one another, in the position of what Wonshik can only guess are the cardinal points. Taekwoon then proceeds to take a white piece of chalk out of his bag.

“Hey,” Wonshik calls out when he sees the other man actually _kneeling_ on the dirty ground with the chalk in hands, “what are you doing?”

It’s dark, too dark, with only the faint light of the bonfire and the flashlights illuminating the whole scene, but he sees Taekwoon’s eyes squinting, sizing him up.

“What?”

“I mean.” Wonshik starts and takes a deep breath, smelling the scent of burning wood, “This is looking kind of creepy.”

“But.” Taekwoon says and stops, standing up and walking up to Wonshik, standing right beside him. “I thought that… because of?”

He looks confused, lost. And poor Wonshik is as lost as him.

“Huh?”

“Your house and – and the silver chain and everything.”

Taekwoon looks down to the ground then, staring at it intensely.

Wonshik opens his mouth to reply, to say anything, because the other man is obviously flustered, but, by some miracle, Taekwoon beats him to it.

“I’m sorry.” He says, truth pouring out, “I thought you were aware. Will you keep going?”

And damned be Wonshik and his soft heart, but he answers right away:

“Yeah. It’s alright.”

Obviously, it is, indeed, not alright, but Wonshik wouldn’t let all Taekwoon’s hard work go to waste because he was a bit of a scared baby. Plus, he didn’t want to go into the forest again when the night was already upon them.

Taekwoon nods twice before getting up and resuming his chalk work.

Whatever will be, will be.

☾

“And now?”

They’re sitting right in front of the bonfire. Ahead, Wonshik can see the shadow of the big stone and the faint light of the single candle, flickering with the wind but never burning out. The other four candles surrounding them are burning strongly too. Taekwoon has drawn a circle around them and the fire, and they sit, side by side, knees almost touching.

“Now we wait.” Taekwoon says, “And you, you speak.”

He sounds solemn, with eyelids almost closing, staring at somewhere far away.

The wind blows harsher, making Wonshik shiver despite the heat coming from the flames.

“Speak of what exactly?”

“Speak to me of summer.”

“Summer?”

Taekwoon moves his hands in the air, not quite answering.

And well, Wonshik looks at the fires, at all the burning. He looks at the flames and the brightness of it, until it burns, his eyelids and his heart.

And then a vision comes into his mind.

A memory of a summer, long-forgotten.

“There was this summer…” He begins, his low, deep voice reverberating throughout his body, sounding not exactly like him. By his side, Taekwoon hums. “I was young, very young. Seven or eight, maybe. And for some reason, my parents left me in one of those summer camps you know? I guess I was too much of a bother. So, yeah. I spent the whole summer in this camp that was located in this… I don’t know. Farm? Yeah, I recall it was something like a farm.”

Wonshik stops to look at Taekwoon, who seems like he’s barely awake, head leaning to the side, eyes closed. It doesn’t matter though, because now the memory is as fresh as water.

“And in this camp, I made some friends, kids who were like me, a little lost, a little confused. One day we were so bored we decided to go explore. So we walked and walked, and it was just so hot. I remember the sun burning my back. One of the kids, poor boy, he was so pale, I remember his skin started to get red pretty soon. But even then, we never stopped walking. And we found a field, a plantation. And we were so tired and thirsty, and the heat was making us go all a little mad, restless. So, in the field, there were those sprinklers you know? To water the plants. Gosh, we had the time of our lives when we found all that water! We ran around it, chasing the droplets that would fall in circles. I remember seeing little rainbows all around, and I remember all the laughter and the mud on our clothes. It was a very precious day.”

Wonshik finishes with a sigh, opting to look at Taekwoon once more.

The other man stares at him, something akin to fascination in his eyes.

“Now, speak to me of wonder.”

It feels like a command and it feels like a request. The black eyes never once wavering from his own. Wonshik swallows and looks at the fires again.

It takes more time, to find something wonderful in his memories.

But then again, Taekwoon never specified what kind of wonder he wanted.

“This one is set in spring if I recall correctly.” He begins, talking fast and feeling euphoric all of a sudden, “I think it was two years ago. I went to visit my sister for the weekend, she lives in another city, so to get there I had to take one big long road, right? And the weekend was sort of awful. Not in a nasty way but. But I felt out of place in her house? Like I was an intruder. She was pregnant, and it was… not the best time. But then. Then I had to go back and take the big long road again and oh, Taekwoon, it was a Sunday afternoon, and there was no one on the road, not a single car. The air was pure, and I had all the windows open, because it felt way too good to feel the wind on my face. And there was this show playing on the radio, and it was playing only old love songs. It’s not like I enjoy them, hell, I didn’t even know those songs. But at the moment it was the perfect fit. And I drove and drove. At some point, the sun started to set, and the sky got colored in oranges and pinks and I swear that was the most beautiful scene I have ever seen.”

Wonshik shivers as he ends his little tale, remembering the feelings, remembering how he had thought “ _well, if nothing gets better at least there is that._ ”

He looks at Taekwoon again and sees a single tear streaming down his face.

“Oh.”

“Please,” Taekwoon whispers, “now. Now speak to me of fear.”

Wonshik closes his eyes, feeling a little bit too much. He just doesn’t understand what is happening, and maybe he just wants it all to stop. Right now. But he can’t stop, can he? Of course not. However, he can surely try to avoid that question.

He looks at Taekwoon once again and then looks up, right at the skies. A very pale and thin crescent moon stares back at him, looking like a wicked smile.

“What do _you_ fear, Taekwoon?”

He senses Taekwoon moving, coming closer, their legs touching completely, his head resting on Wonshik’s shoulder.

And then it comes, the soft voice:

“I fear loneliness. Always.”

That doesn’t seem right, not at all, so he puts an arm around Taekwoon, thinking on what to say back. But then he looks at the fires, still burning strongly and brightly, the heat coming from it some sort of a message. That’s the moment he knows he has to speak about his fears too.

“I fear… I fear lots of things.” Wonshik manages to voice out.

The flames dance in front of him, around him.

“I fear the night and shadows. I hear things, and then I fear them.”

He hears a crack in the distance and he almost closes his eyes, almost, because somewhere deep inside of him he knows he can’t do that.

“I fear losing... Not something material but, losing something that I can’t exactly grasp. Losing myself, maybe? Losing hope? I fear all those things.”

He hears another crack, and in the corner of his eyes, he sees shadows moving.

“And I fear not knowing,” He continues, desperation filling his voice, “I fear growing old and boring, not being able to do all the things I dreamed about. I fear it, so much, Taekwoon, so, so much. Not being able to achieve my goals.”

Around him, he feels a presence. He’s almost sure _something_ is lurking out there, inside the forest, watching them.

Wonshik takes a deep breath, trying to control his nerves. Taekwoon is still leaning to his side, not showing any sign that he’s either listening or even paying attention. Because of their position, Wonshik can’t see his face.

But.

“Keep going Wonshik. Do not stop.”

Taekwoon speaks, unmoving.

And who’s Wonshik to disobey that kind of order? He’s no one, probably. So he complies with trembling hands.

“I fear.” And oh, he feels it, the raw, blazing and angry fear enveloping him completely. “I fear looking into the mirror and being disappointed, I fear going out and being invisible, I fear my dreams will stop existing, I fear my hopes. Oh my god, Taekwoon. I fear all my hopes will disappear.”

He hears, faintly, a sound. It starts from behind him, it’s a crack in the beginning, but it grows into something more. It grows and it growls. It hisses and it stomps in the mud and in the dirt. There’s something right behind them and Wonshik just knows he can’t look at it.

He almost feels the scratches of claws on his back.

“Wonshik.” Taekwoon says, firmly.

And Wonshik looks, not at Taekwoon, not at the fires and not even at the moon.

Wonshik blinks once, and then he looks at the single candle that sits on top of the big stone.

A shadow, right beside the candle, is sitting there, watching him.

“What do you fear Wonshik?” Taekwoon asks.

But for Wonshik, it sounds like the whole world is asking him that single question.

And the shadow right there stares back at him taking some kind of corporeal form.

“I –”

The shadow flickers, and suddenly, it’s not a shadow anymore. It takes the form of a man, in all whites, white hair, white skin and black eyes. For a second, Wonshik thinks he’s seeing Taekwoon, but it’s all wrong, the shape of the body, the face. The _eyes_.

He hears Taekwoon start to hum. He hears the winds shaking the trees. He hears the sounds of chanting, somewhere far away, and he sees shadows dancing everywhere.

The flames of the candles go out for a second.

And, for a second, they’re in total darkness.

“I fear what I can become.” Wonshik hears himself says, “I fear.”

The chanting becomes louder, stronger, Taekwoon starts to sing with it.

It’s a chanting without words, he can feel that. It’s a chanting that is not coming from Taekwoon’s soft, pure voice, but from the trees and the ground and the mud.

The white shape on top of the rock stares at him, humming with the chanting.

Wonshik can see it clearly, now, with everything getting louder. He can see horns or thorns, on the thing’s forehead, and he can see that behind all the whiteness, he knows the face of the thing way too well.

Of course he knows what it is, he sees it daily. Has been seeing it forever.

“I fear everything.” Wonshik says, staring right into the thing’s soul. “I fear all, but mostly, I fear what I am.”

And then, all the lights of the candles burn out.

☾

Wonshik feels a little dazed when he opens his eyes. His mind cloudy, uncertain. He senses someone shaking him, and his body hurts all over.

“Wonshik, Wonshik.”

He hears it, someone calling him.

“What?”

“Look!”

He blinks slowly, vision still a little blurred, but he complies, looking at his surroundings. He notices he’s still sitting right where he was last night, he looks and notices the remnants of the bonfire in front of him.

He looks, seeing the skies tinted in golden yellow, coloring every corner with an almost holy shade.

And then he turns to Taekwoon who, sure enough, is still right beside him, appearing as disheveled as ever, human as ever.

“The morning.” Taekwoon whispers, “Blessed be.”

And who’s Wonshik to not agree with him?

“Blessed be.” He says right after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah look at it! 
> 
> the solstice is approaching!!! isn't that exciting? i absolutely loveee to celebrate the solstices. For the winter solstice, one of the rituals is to sit around a bonfire and tell tales until the sun is up again (since it's like... the longest night and all). 
> 
> for me, the 21st will be the summer solstice, which is a very different thing with different rituals. We will reach summer on this story too, and honestly, I can't wait for that. 
> 
> anyway!!!! i'm sorry if this is going very slow, but life, right? life is slow. if you think about it... how this year changed us in so many ways, and how it took SUCH a long time for that to happen. 
> 
> mmh i'm rambling, but yeah, if you wanna know more about rituals, solstice (no we don't deal with sacrifices here), magic and/or tax law, you know where to find me!!!!!
> 
> @ [twitter](https://twitter.com/tttarkus)


	6. Winter I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy holidays! (⌒▽⌒)☆

The truck shakes all over, making the ride down to the small town much more uncomfortable than what Wonshik is used to. It’s been raining ever since the winter solstice, a thin, sticky rain that seems to bring the cold and loneliness back to Wonshik’s heart.

The radio is playing some incredibly upbeat pop song that doesn’t fit the mood at all, and Hakyeon is singing along to it, a big smile splattered on his face.

That also doesn’t fit the current shadow on Wonshik’s mind.

“So, did you enjoy the solstice?” Hakyeon asks, bright and clear.

The truck shakes some more, with the bumps and rocks on the road, Wonshik holds onto his seatbelt.

Thoughts of the fateful night appear, and it’s not like he could even forget them. That, he thinks, would be quite the impossible feat. He remembers how he had woken up to see the rising sun in all its glory, and he recalls how Taekwoon had seemed different, distant.

(And of course, he remembers what had transpired during that odd night.)

He and Taekwoon had walked their way back to Wonshik’s house in silence. An unbearable, big thing that had been more of a heartbreak than what he had wanted to admit. However, as soon as they arrived at his doorstep, tired, dirty and sweaty, Wonshik had asked Taekwoon. He had asked because he had needed to:

“ _What happened up there? In the forest? The things…?_ ”

Taekwoon had shaken his head, his white hair sticking to his forehead, his black eyes closed. Wonshik’s heart had broken just a tiny bit more.

But then, with a single ray of sunshine downing upon them, Taekwoon had approached him. Close, so close that their faces were almost touching, and Wonshik held his breath.

If his memories can be trusted, he remembers that Taekwoon had, oh so gently, brushed his lips on Wonshik’s cheek, and then had walked away, stumbling as he was entering the forest again, disappearing in the fog.

“Hey, are you here with me?”

Another bump and Wonshik is brought back to the present, hitting his head on the window of the truck.

“Oops sorry!” Hakyeon says, sounding not sorry at all.

“Yeah, yeah, I did.” Wonshik finally answers, gazing out of the window only to see the whiteness and humidity of the world outside.

“That’s great! We had fun as well, Binnie tried to bake a chocolate cake and it tasted terrible, just like dust.”

“Really?”

The song on the radio changes and another pop song starts to play.

“Oh Goddess, I love this song.” Hakyeon chirps, turning up the volume and starting to sing along to it.

Wonshik sighs, despite not wanting to sound grumpy, and, bracing himself, starts singing the song too.

Everyone knows how to sing a good pop song, right?

And, surprisingly, that single act lifts his spirits, so much so that by the end of the song, they’ve already made it through the small city, parking just in front of Hongbin’s bar and laughing at their antics.

He feels…oddly happy.

So he lets Hakyeon put the Santa Claus hat on him, and he lets Hakyeon lead him inside the bar, and then through a backdoor that leads to a brightly lit corridor and stairs.

He knew Hongbin lived in an apartment above the bar, but he wasn’t expecting…

“Are you ready?” Hakyeon asks him, smiling.

“Yeah.” He says, fixing the hat.

Wonshik feels ready, he feels as ready as he can be for a Christmas party with almost strangers in a strange city so far away from everything.

When Hakyeon opens the door, Wonshik can see bright yellow lights and a huge Christmas tree decorated with stars, five shiny white plates are set on a wooden table, with food already on display. He sees all that, and he sees the coziness of the apartment with all the potted plants and the wood floors. And, he sees the others, too, looking at him with a smile in their eyes, Jaehwan screaming “ _you came!_ ” and Hongbin and Sanghyuk laughing on the side.

All in all, Wonshik thinks he is, indeed, very much ready.

The evening is as warm as it can be, given that it’s just the beginning of winter, with the rain turning into an unexpected thin snow that starts to fall endlessly from the sky. But it’s warm, nonetheless, with a shared meal filled with good laughs and good stories, with kind smiles and bad jokes.

In that strange group of people, Wonshik finds some kind of peace, something to take his mind away from the thoughts that had been haunting him.

And, as the night comes into an end, with everyone slightly tipsy and full, splayed on Hongbin’s couch and talking about amenities, Wonshik feels some kind of thing bubbling inside. A feeling, a sentiment. It could be all the red wine though, but he’s almost sure it could mean something else too.

He feels satisfied, he feels as if he’s finally starting to belong. And Hakyeon is smiling at him, and Sanghyuk is playing with his hair, making it all feel intimate and homey.

For a second, Wonshik also feels a pang in his heart, a hurt, coming from somewhere very deep. The fear of leaving, perhaps, or, the fear of this moment fading out way too soon.

But he doesn’t want to deal with his abandonment issues right now. In fact, he doesn’t want to deal with them, ever.

☾

Wonshik doesn’t know when the clock hits midnight.

He doesn’t know because he’s too busy trying to forget he’s alone on freaking new year’s eve and no one, not a single person, called him or texted or said anything.

It’s new year’s eve, and Wonshik is alone, very much so, with the thin snow falling steadily and making it impossible to drive to the city, or go anywhere.

It was his choice, and he knows that. His decision to get away from the madness of the world and to just be at peace, creating. Making art.

What a joke.

He got lost in his own music and, in the process, got lost in himself.

Maybe he was one of those social people who simply perished without human contact, maybe he had chosen the wrong path.

But life doesn’t stop, even when you notice some things. Like those little patterns and repetitions.

Is Wonshik repeating another mistake? Is this how his life will be forever? An endless cycle of ups and downs in which he simply gets even more lost?

In his hazy mind, not caring about festivities anymore, Wonshik makes the great decision of filling the bathtub of his bathroom with scalding hot water, grabbing a nice full bottle of vodka to accompany him.

If there’s no one. No one will see him in this state.

He gently peels off his clothes, shivering when even inside the bathroom – with steam already clouding the mirrors – the cold air hits his body.

He takes one, two gulps of the vodka and grimaces, feeling the burn in his throat, stepping inside the tub tentatively.

The water burns his toes, and it feels nicer than it should.

He lays completely into the bathtub, savoring how his whole body burns and he can finally _feel_. He leans his head on the white porcelain and sighs, grabbing the bottle of vodka with one hand and gulping down some more.

Now he can finally start his new year’s party.

It would only be better if he had brought his cellphone with him, to put some music, something sad and dramatic to set the mood right.

Unfortunately, Wonshik isn’t as smart as he makes himself out to be, and he’s alone with only the yellow tiles of the walls, the scalding water and the vodka, the sweet, bitter vodka.

He stays there, naked and hot, with the steam and the alcohol. He stays until his fingertips are all wrinkled and the water is in that sad, wrong temperature where it isn’t hot anymore, but it isn’t cold yet.

And maybe he had gotten drunk without noticing, and maybe he had started to see things on the tiles, images of long-forgotten new year’s parties.

Suddenly, Wonshik is twenty-three, dancing and drinking like crazy in a fancy party with fancy people who dress way too well for his liking, people who wear brands too expensive and who talk too much. But Wonshik is drunk and dancing, and maybe that’s all that matters. He can’t recall how he arrived to the party, how he got in, but he remembers some random rich man starting a conversation, he remembers how his vision was blurred, and he remembers the strong arms holding him into place and whispering into his ears. And he remembers, quite clearly, how after everything was done, they talked, naked and sweaty in this huge bed in the huge penthouse of the random man, and, well, Wonshik remembers. He recalls how he said to the man ‘I make music’ and the man was in such awe, but then, after finding out that that wasn’t Wonshik’s real job, how his eyes were downcast, and how he said ‘ _you should pursue the things you love._ ’

And then, Wonshik is seventeen, and he’s totally and utterly in love with the girl who holds his hand so tightly while they watch fireworks at the strike of midnight. Wonshik is in love, and he promises the girl he will love her forever and ever, not knowing that a couple of months later, they will break up because of forgettable reasons.

And Wonshik is fifteen, young and a rebel, and he steals some soju from the local supermarket with his equally young and rebel friends. This is the very first time Wonshik tastes alcohol, and he hates how it burns and makes him feel dizzy. He doesn’t see when the year changes, but he sees the mess he makes when he passes out in the street. No one’s helping him.

Wonshik is a lot of things, but then, Wonshik is ten, and at his father’s house. All his family members are there too, and his father is drunk, stinking of bad things. Wonshik is still too young to know what’s happening or to even stay awake until midnight. He tries though, and he also tries to stay away from his father, with no success. When the clock ticks and everyone cheers, his father is gripping Wonshik by the arm, mocking him because he looks so weak and frail. The clock ticks again and his father is drunk and raising his voice, telling him that for the next year Wonshik will stop his piano lessons, because piano – and music – are made for _sensitive_ people, and Wonshik is not sensitive. Wonshik should be strong and fierce, so, as the new year begins and Wonshik is at the tender age of ten, his father tells him he will be enrolled in a martial arts class as soon as he can.

And finally, Wonshik is seven and he sees his mother crying and his father shouting and his sister hiding.

And Wonshik sees fireworks and the naked body of a man, and hands bruising him and hands holding him.

Wonshik sees many things.

And Wonshik sees the yellow tiles and he feels the soft, salty tears running down his face.

And then he waits.

When he hears the bathroom’s door opening, he expects.

He expects lots of things. Shadows with horns and whiteness, and he expects shivering and the smell of decay and mud. He also, somehow, expects the paleness of skin and the blackness of eyes.

He expects all of this, but what enters the bathroom, steady and calm, is neither of those.

Wonshik blinks, to check if it’s real.

“What are you doing here?” he says, tentatively, to the tall figure standing right in the middle of the room.

It’s the new year, probably far away into the hours of the morning. There’s no logical reason for Jaehwan, always so smiley Jaehwan, to be standing right there, bearing a worried look and trembling hands, his police uniform all crumpled and covered in dirt and grass.

It doesn’t make sense, it doesn’t add up.

So, Wonshik asks again, “What are you doing here?”

His voice is carried away by the yellow tiles and the fogginess.

Jaehwan looks up, sighs, and, without answering, sits right beside the tub, his hands touching the lukewarm water just slightly.

Thanks to the proximity, Wonshik can almost see the invisible heaviness sitting on the other’s shoulders.

And again, he asks: “What are you doing here, Jaehwan.”

But in reality, he wants to ask a thousand other questions. How did you come in? Why are you looking so wrecked? Why are you not with your friends?

However, something tells him that it’s not his place to ask those questions, so he just waits.

The only thing that troubles the emptiness of the situation is the sound of the water, barely moving, by Jaehwan’s fingers.

It’s uncomfortable for Wonshik, to have someone so close when he’s in such a state, not just wholly naked but.

But he’s almost sure he was having one of those so-called ‘breakdowns’, and that’s even worse than to be naked in front of someone.

Or, at least Wonshik thinks so.

Maybe, just maybe, Wonshik’s still dreaming.

It’s the only reasonable explanation.

But.

“I’m sorry.” Jaehwan barely whispers.

That doesn’t sound right, that doesn’t sound like Jaehwan at all.

“For what?” He says, desperation filling his words.

Jaehwan turns his head, leaning his cheeks on the white porcelain of the bathtub, staring at Wonshik’s eyes from below.

“You’re lost.” He deadpans, voice flat and devoid of any emotion.

Wonshik moves in the water, feeling his whole body shiver.

He remembers something then, something Jaehwan himself had said.

_I’m always right._

“Hyuk warned me of this but, oh well.” Jaehwan keeps talking, moving his hands in front of his face, looking tired and broken.

The thing is, Wonshik doesn’t know if Jaehwan’s words can be trusted. If Jaehwan’s words are right at all.

Is this even real?

“To lose sight of yourself, it can be a scary thing, Wonshikkie.” Jaehwan finally says, locking his gaze with Wonshik’s again, “But, it can also be a reason to renew yourself, you know.”

It takes a moment, no more than a few seconds, for Wonshik to sigh and shake his head.

Nothing makes sense.

“Are you lost, Wonshik? Did you lose it already? Or are you still trying hard to hold onto sanity?”

The words burn. They burn onto Wonshik’s skin much more than the scalding water had burned a few hours before.

And it hurts.

It hurts more than he was prepared to.

So he closes his eyes, forces them to shut. Not wanting to hear all of those strange things. Not wanting to experience all the oddness that has been happening since he stepped inside this freaking city on this freaking mountain.

Wonshik’s hurt. So so much.

And he wants…

What does Wonshik want?

A hand is placed on top of his head, making all the thoughts stop at once. The heavy feeling of fingers preventing him from going further into the madness.

“Wonshik.”

Jaehwan’s sweet voice echoes.

“Wonshik, being lost… is not always such a bad thing.”

“What are you even doing here Jaehwan?” He finally replies, gathering the courage to speak again.

However, the answer he expects is not the answer that comes. Jaehwan moves his body, getting closer to the tub, and to Wonshik, his elbows resting on the white porcelain. And his eyes are distant, languid, as he slowly blinks.

“Do you know about the three of swords, Wonshikkie?”

“I –”

“In tarot.” He quickly interrupts, “In tarot, there are four suits beyond the major arcana. The details aren’t what’s important right now, you don’t need to know them. But there’s the three of swords, from the swords suit, obviously.”

Jaehwan gives a small humorless laugh and tilts his head, moving his hands to his pockets. The movement is slow, as slow as taking a card out from a pocket can be, but Wonshik sees it clearly, one single black and white card.

“See for yourself.”

Wonshik obeys, or tries to. He’s still inside a bathtub, and his hands are still wet, but Jaehwan shoves the card into his hands, and he doesn’t have the time to think of whether it would be a wise choice.

It’s somewhat intriguing, to see that, in the most surreal times, the most simple thoughts are the ones that surface to his mind. Maybe it has all to do with the brain trying to see some reason. For the briefest of seconds, before he truly looks at the card in his hands, he remembers that people can’t see things that they don’t recognize as ordinary or mundane, that they get incredibly blind to the sight of the unknown.

But Wonshik does know the unknown.

So he looks at the card.

It’s all sharp lines and painful blacks. Three swords piercing what was once a beautiful flower, the remaining petals falling, and flying all around. The swords are sharp, while the flower petals are incredibly soft.

It hurts to look at it.

And, right at the bottom of the card, when Wonshik’s already averting his gaze, he reads the single three words written in there: _lord of sorrow_.

It seems fitting, somehow.

“This is sad.” He concludes, shoving the card at Jaehwan’s face and hoping to never have to look at it again.

The water stirs with his brusque movement, splashing sounds resonating throughout the room. And he feels so uncomfortable, in more ways than he envisioned.

Jaehwan chuckles beside him, “Of course it’s sad, it’s the deepest kind of sorrow. The sorrow from the soul and mind. Only the beholder of such mind can stop such sorrow.”

And Wonshik, with all that’s been happening, feels very tired and done.

“Why are you showing me this?”

“Flowers always die, Wonshik. However, if you’re careful, they will bloom beautifully again, when spring comes.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” He replies, moving, and standing up. “I came up here for other reasons though.” He brushes some of the dirt that is still on his pants, dirtying the floor. “A little boy disappeared yesterday night, I was called to look for him. It seems he took a walk into the forest and never came back.”

Wonshik doesn’t know how to answer, so he keeps quiet, studying Jaehwan’s face. The dark circles under his eyes and the greasy hair sticking to his forehead are all he needs to know that, at least, those words are true.

“Be careful.” Jaehwan speaks, already walking out the door, “I would advise to not enter the forest, there are… some things that shouldn’t be disturbed.”

“But…?”

Jaehwan is already holding the doorknob and stepping out when he says: “But you and I both know you will not follow what I say.”

☾

It’s already late in the afternoon when Wonshik wakes up with a dreadful feeling in his gut.

He shakes his head, remembering the night before. Jaehwan, the strange talk, the yellow tiles and the vodka.

Oh, well, that explains the headache.

He kindly swears to himself he’s never drinking again, the same way he had sworn a million times before, and he finally gets out of bed, walking to the window and seeing the thin snow falling and falling.

“ _It’s not usual to get snow this early around here._ ” He remembers Hakyeon saying, sometime during their little Christmas party.

For a while, he entertains the idea of sending a message to them, maybe something along the lines of ‘happy new year.’ But he doesn’t know if they even celebrate the new year like that. And then, there’s the Jaehwan matter. Did he really come all the way to his house to speak about nonsensical things?

As Wonshik looks out the window, seeing nothing but white, white trees, white ground, white sky; he finds out he really doesn’t want to know.

For Wonshik, is a new year, so, he will start it in the right way, at least.

No more madness, he says to himself as he pulls a big sweater over his head and relishes into the comfort that it brings; No more obsessive thoughts, he repeats, over and over, as he takes the stairs down to the kitchen, feeling the coldness of the wooden floor under his bare feet; No more talking to strange people about strange things, he practically begs to himself, as he rounds up a corner and enters the kitchen.

Only to see the one and only person he really wasn’t ready to see.

“Taekwoon.”

He says, voice incredibly thin and shaky, because just a single look at the other man, with his inquiring black eyes and soft lips, makes all his resolve crumble.

And he doesn’t understand why.

And seriously, at this point he should just change the door lock of his house or leave it open altogether since everyone just comes and goes as they please.

Taekwoon keeps looking at him as if he wasn’t absent for the past week, as if it was normal for him to just be in the middle of Wonshik’s kitchen like that.

“You look terrible.”

“I – what?”

Taekwoon approaches him with soft steps, looking cozy and pretty, much like a big cat dressed in a pink sweater and white scarf.

“What did you do yesterday?” Taekwoon pokes him on the cheeks, “You look like you saw the dead.”

Wonshik frowns, batting away Taekwoon’s hands and running to the coffee maker. “That’s not a thing people actually say, Taekwoon.”

He presses the buttons, enjoying the smell of freshly made coffee that fills the air.

“Plus, what are you even doing here?” He adds when the coffee is ready and dripping down in his mug, “I mean, you disappeared for days.”

And Wonshik turns, just in time to see the guilty expression on Taekwoon’s face fade away into something duller.

“I came to help.”

“To help.” Wonshik repeats.

He sips his coffee, forgetting that he has a guest and thus he should have offered a cup to him as well. But is Taekwoon a guest? Would he even want coffee at three in the afternoon?

“Yes. Help.” Taekwoon deadpans, finally deciding to sit in one of the kitchen’s stools. “It’s a new year, for you at least. So it’s a tradition to help your friends and clean their houses.”

“Do you want some coffee?” He says, and then Taekwoon’s words hit him, “What do you mean clean the house? Are you implying we will spend the day cleaning this huge house?”

Taekwoon nods, “Yes, to both.”

Wonshik groans, starting the coffee machine again to avoid looking at the other man.

Once coffees have been sipped and stares have been given, Wonshik sees himself spending the rest of the afternoon and good part of the evening actually cleaning the whole house, mopping the floors, brushing dust from the furniture, scrubbing the windows. He and Taekwoon find rooms Wonshik had never ventured in, and he finds a whole room filled with old books, while Taekwoon finds a room with nothing but paintings and portraits.

It’s heavy work, too much for someone who’s still feeling as hungover as hell.

But, it’s in the middle of a break, where both of them are laying on the couch of Wonshik’s studio, with Taekwoon playing lazily with Wonshik’s hair, that he finds out how he just can’t deny Taekwoon anything.

It’s mortifying. The realization. So he brushes it off in favor to just feel what’s happening in the here and now.

But even then, Wonshik still has questions.

“Taekwoon.”

Time stops for a moment, as Taekwoon stops his hands. “Yes?”

Wonshik shifts, trying to find a position where he can look at Taekwoon’s face.

“Why.”

“Why what?” Taekwoon chuckles and resumes his work of brushing Wonshik’s hair.

It’s soothing.

“Why the cleaning? And… why. Just why.”

Taekwoon hums, “If it’s a new year, nothing more logical than start anew, right? The act of cleaning brings good energies. I thought you kinda needed that.”

“Oh.”

“Rituals, routines, intention. You can call whatever. They’re important.” Taekwoon moves, directing his gaze into the far corner of the room, “There’s power on routines, and there’s power on intention. If you clean something with the thought that you’re getting rid of the bad energies, well, it might end up working.”

Wonshik closes his eyes, focusing on Taekwoon’s hands instead of his words.

“As I said, rituals are important, not only for the energy of the world to keep going, but also for you and me, to breathe, to keep dreaming and hoping. To achieve.”

And Wonshik feels a little lost on what to say, so he doesn’t say anything, opting to just get even more comfortable where he is.

And if he falls asleep laying on Taekwoon’s lap, with Taekwoon’s fingers brushing his hair, no one needs to know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ha
> 
> this chapter is fun cause i didn't realize it was this weird until nini started revising it lol. 
> 
> i hope you can all forgive me;; from now on the soft moments from the tag will begin, i guess 
> 
> (if you're curious about the three of swords or tarot cards in general!!!!! talk to me!!!!!!!! it's like my favorite subject ever)
> 
> on other unrelated note, i will be traveling during the holidays, lord knows i deserve a break (!!!) but i will probably try to update next week, before the year actually ends.
> 
> ah, also, i know holidays aren't always a happy thing, family is hard isn't it? i think so, that's why i'm running away lol, but hang in there my dear friends!! if you wanna talk, i'm always available @ [twitter](https://twitter.com/tttarkus)
> 
> blessed be ━━☆⌒*.


	7. Winter II

The year begins with comfortable silences shared with a certain someone. It’s soft, just like the snow that doesn’t cease falling even if it’s not the time for it, not this early in the season at least. And, it’s easy. Wonshik feels it just like the easiness of when you’re six, arriving at your grandmother’s house, and there’s the smell of freshly brewed coffee and cake.

He doesn’t stop to think about the reasons why Taekwoon seems to get more and more attached as the days go by, because, honestly, he can’t complain about the company.

And the nights become days, and then nights again, stretching out without any clear line separating them.

Both of them would sit up on the studio and talk about music – or rather, Wonshik would talk and Taekwoon would listen. On other nights, Taekwoon would suggest to take a walk into the forest, and even with the cold, with the snow and all that’s scary about nights, Wonshik would follow. On some other nights though – and those are the ones Wonshik enjoys the most – they would just sit outside, on the plastic chairs near the empty pool, gazing at the stars or clouds.

The thing is, independently of how their encounters start, Wonshik would always find himself falling asleep, not being able to stay awake any longer. He would fall asleep on the couch, on the kitchen counter and god, even outside, with thin snow piling up on his lap. And, every time he opened his eyes again, Taekwoon would be gone.

Until the next day, of course.

And it would start all over again.

Some sort of routine, maybe.

It’s on one of these nights, two weeks into the new year, when the snow had stopped falling, that Wonshik finds himself gazing at the beautiful and bright full moon, with Taekwoon by his side.

_And it’s the first full moon_ , Taekwoon had said earlier.

Who’s Wonshik, really? To say no to such bright eyes.

He’s no one.

But it’s not the moon that Wonshik is gazing at tonight.

The man by his side is looking as ethereal as the satellite up high, the silver light reflecting on his face and hair, creating a vision that seems almost out of dreams’ land.

_Maybe it is._

And it’s in this moment, this fraction of a second when the world stills and a breeze passes by, moving Taekwoon’s fringe away from his eyes, that Wonshik feels a pull inside.

He knows Taekwoon doesn’t like to speak while gazing at the sky, and he senses that this first full moon is somewhat important, but he can’t help himself.

“Taekwoon?”

There’s a low hum in response, a tiny wave of hands, so he continues.

“I – I don’t know how to ask you this but. Remember that time we went into the forest and some weird things happened?”

That makes Taekwoon break eye contact with the moon, and look at Wonshik.

The black eyes seem guarded, aware.

“You told me. Well, you told me you fear loneliness, but you stay all alone here, up in the mountains, why?”

A frown is directed at him.

“Why do you ask?” Taekwoon replies with a softness and waver that Wonshik had never heard before, making his heart stutter.

“I’m just curious.”

An owl flies above them, creating a shadow in the empty pool.

And the silence stretches.

Wonshik is already thinking about how to apologize for intruding when he hears a soft chuckle, devoid of any humor.

It’s raw and so unlike Taekwoon.

“Loneliness is a weird thing, isn’t it?”

“What do you mean?” Wonshik says, itching to touch the other man.

“You know.” Taekwoon starts, “A very long time ago, a friend of mine who always spoke about the truth in this world said to me that loneliness is just like any other emotion. Like love, anger or even happiness. You can choose to give or take it from other people. I made a decision back then, I chose to give it to my friends, and to myself too. But sometimes. Sometimes I think it wasn’t the wisest decision.”

The words, spoken in such a soft voice, hit him more than what he would have wanted.

“Oh.”

“I chose her.” Taekwoon points at the moon, so full and bright, “She was my lover for many years, and it didn’t bother me.”

Wonshik stares at the moon then, not quite understanding how someone would make that kind of choice.

“But now it does?” He finally speaks up, moving his arm just a little, just so he can _touch_.

Taekwoon’s hands feel warm on his own.

“It does, yes.”

The wind blows again, making both of them shiver, and making Taekwoon grasp onto Wonshik’s hand tightly. An involuntary reaction, of course.

“Do you want to pray for her with me?” Taekwoon whispers, suddenly very close to Wonshik’s face.

And who’s Wonshik to refuse, really?

  
☾

Hakyeon likes fixing things, while Sanghyuk provides, and Jaehwan? Jaehwan talks and everything he says is always right. In the end, Hongbin is the one who listens.

And that’s the reason why Wonshik goes to Hongbin when he doesn’t know what to do anymore.

It’s a perfect winter day, cold and bright, the snow already melting, the sky colored in pretty deep blue, with white clouds scattered here and there. That single fact is already enough to lift Wonshik’s spirits, even if just a little. The streets are calm, the stores are open, and everything looks fine.

It’s been a while since Wonshik had one of those odd episodes.

But, even then, he feels like something is amiss, something so deep within himself that he can’t quite grasp it. He racks his brain for an answer, a reasoning. But it’s one of those impossible tasks. So, maybe talking could help.

Maybe.

The street that leads to the bar is empty of any life; however, the door he enters is always open. Always.

And Hongbin’s bar? It’s always empty as well, save for the wooden chair and tables, for the hundreds of bottles on the shelves and, for Hongbin himself.

He takes his time to think about the fact that he had never seen any other customer at the bar.

But it’s not for this reason he’s here today.

Hongbin greets him with one of his signature smiles and the words of: “Took you long enough.”

And Wonshik grins at that, the familiarity of the same stool on which he always sits enveloping his frame, his elbows resting on the counter.

“Hey.”

“What will it be today? Gin? Soju? Something more natural like water?”

His grin widens.

“Water please.”

Hongbin hums, fetching a cup of cold water and placing it right near Wonshik’s hands, but, instead of leaving it there and turning away, he looks at Wonshik, his eyes searching for _something_.

“What’s wrong?”

“There’s nothing wrong.” He quickly says, making Hongbin shrug.

“Are you sure? Your eyes are unusually down.”

“My eyes are always like this.”

Hongbin moves, grabbing a cloth and starting to clean a spot on the counter that was already perfectly shiny.

“Wonshik,” he starts, not looking at him, “you’ve been coming here almost every day, one would guess I know about you by now.”

“Oh.”

“I’m not saying you should talk, not when you don’t feel comfortable. But my offer still stands.”

Hongbin’s words lay heavy on Wonshik’s mind. He did come here to talk; however, it’s hard to form coherent thoughts when you don’t know what’s going on. So, he starts with the obvious.

“I feel weird.”

Hongbin only nods, still cleaning the counter.

Spotless, Hongbin’s bar is always spotless, bright and clean.

“I feel like I have everything, but I will lose it soon? And, on top of that. Well, I’ve been creating, music, I mean, you know about that.” He laughs, trying to not sound so awkward, “But everything I do sounds dull and not like me at all, as if something is missing. It’s horrible.”

“What about your nightmares?” Hongbin asks out of nowhere.

“Huh? I didn’t know you knew about them.”

_The darkness and the whispers and the –_

“Come on, are you still having them?”

“No.”

And it’s true, something he hadn’t noticed until this very moment, but they did stop.

“Good. Do you know why they stopped though?”

“Oh.” He shifts on his seat, looking at the window. “No, I don’t know.”

He doesn’t see, but he feels Hongbin patting his head.

“Silly Wonshik, you asked for help and help came. It’s that simple.”

“I don’t understand?”

Hongbin stares at him for a long moment, his eyes are piercing and judgmental.

“Look, I’m not the best at giving advice.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, please no. Don’t apologize. It’s just.” Hongbin struggles for a while, leaving the cloth on the counter and focusing completely on Wonshik, “No one can fight your battles for you, that is a task you must do alone, but that doesn’t mean you have to _endure_ it alone, you know?”

Wonshik blinks.

“Just ask. We like you, Wonshik, you’re a good friend.”

“Oh.”

“And stop with that frown, it doesn’t suit you.”

He feels himself blush.

“What time is it?”

Hongbin looks at the clock that’s right on the wall, “Almost four, why?”

“Maybe I will accept your offer of some gin, then.”

Hongbin raises one of his eyebrows, but nods with a low chuckle, making Wonshik laugh too, until they’re both laughing freely. And Wonshik feels like a heavy weight has been lifted from his shoulders.

“It’s for creativity, right?” Hongbin mocks him.

“Of course.”

A cup of the clear liquid is placed in front of him, and he takes a sip, savoring the bitter taste.

The silence settles in, with only the sounds of Hongbin constantly cleaning filling the empty spaces. It’s only when Wonshik is already leaving, putting on the sleeves of his trench coat and enveloping his neck in a thick black scarf, that he remembers.

“Hey, Hongbin?”

“Yeah?” The other replies.

“How come I never see other customers here?”

Hongbin blinks, his eyes roaming Wonshik’s face and settling for looking deep within his eyes.

“Well Wonshikkie, isn’t that obvious?” He says, pausing and grinning, “This bar doesn’t exist after all.”

He stops his movements, feeling his hands trembling a little, “What?”

Hongbin’s grin widens, and it looks borderline crazy, “I’m just kidding with you!” He says, tentative footsteps approaching Wonshik, “You always come at odd hours, don’t you? I only open after six.”

He nods, taking a deep breath.

“Sure.”

And, unsure about the whole thing, he walks out of the bar, not giving Hongbin a second glance.

☾

Silly tasteless jokes aside, Hongbin did have a point. The point is that asking for help could be a way out of this creative block.

And who’s the best person to ask for help in this kind of situations?

Well, certainly not the cryptic man that sneaked in his house every day but it’s not like Wonshik had any other options.

And it’s not like Wonshik was against that idea, too.

Taekwoon, as strange as he was, could also give some useful insights when it came to music.

(amongst other things)

So, it’s not a surprise when Wonshik finds himself actually whining to Taekwoon for help.

“I don’t understand.”

Wonshik lays his head on the desk, tired. He hates asking for help.

“Please.” He groans, shooting a look at Taekwoon he hopes looks pitiful.

“But what’s the problem?” Taekwoon asks, frowning and staring at the laptop with intensity.

With some strain, Wonshik presses the play button. The song he had been working on for weeks now starts to play, and he cringes to the sound of his voice and the melody. It all seems so wrong.

When it finally ends, he straightens himself.

“That’s the problem.” He points out to the screen.

Taekwoon frown deepens, “What exactly?”

“Don’t you think it’s lacking?” He asks and waits, searching for some kind of answer in the other’s eyes.

“You need to be more specific.”

Frustration burns inside of him, and he places both hands on his face, the need to just start screaming rising out of nowhere.

“Okay.” Taekwoon says, gently taking Wonshik’s hands off and holding them. “It’s a love song, right? Tell me what you don’t like about it.”

“Everything.”

“Okay, why?”

He looks at Taekwoon, hands still holding his own.

“I feel like it says nothing.”

There, he finally said it.

Taekwoon hums, shaking his head slightly.

“You talk about love in there, are you in love?”

Wonshik feels his face turn hot, “What?”

Taekwoon’s hands suddenly leave his.

“You're being so difficult today.”

“I –”

“If you don’t like it, if you don’t feel it, why don’t you try something different?” The voice he got so used to hear speaks softly, “Isn’t that the whole point of creating things? To try?”

Wonshik blinks, as realization dawns upon him.

Taekwoon isn’t _wrong_.

“If it’s not love, then write a song about something you know.” He continues, surprisingly getting closer to Wonshik and leaning his head on his shoulder, “Write about your story, then.”

He relishes into the warmth that comes from Taekwoon’s body so close, taking his time to answer.

“That will be hard.”

“Everything’s hard.”

“Would you help me?”

Taekwoon turns his head slightly, and Wonshik can barely see his face, but he guesses he can see a small smile there. That’s the only answer he needs.

☾

Taekwoon does help, in his odd and gentle way, not actually telling Wonshik what to do and what to write. Not helping him in the slightest with rhythm and harmonies. However, helping all the same.

It starts with one of their casual walks into the forest, with their boots making splashing sounds in the mud, with the fog tinting every corner with an eerie aura and, with Taekwoon holding his hand on the most challenging parts of the trail. The leafless trees and the cold don’t help at all, but Wonshik can’t have the mind to be afraid or suspicious, not anymore.

He does remember Jaehwan’s words, and, for a second, he thinks of asking Taekwoon if he knows about disappearing children and whatnot. But, something in the back of his mind tells him that that question is somewhat dangerous. And honestly, as terrible as it sounds, he prefers to think of other things, like where Taekwoon is guiding him and why.

The why is kind of obvious, because for once Taekwoon had explained where they were going. Not a full explanation – that never happened – but he looked at Wonshik with those fiery black eyes and smiled, saying something about wanting to show him one of his favorites spots in the forest.

_It could inspire you_ , Taekwoon had said.

And Wonshik, as the dreamer and believer that he was, actually accepted.

But when did he not?

The answers come with a raven’s cry, bringing him back to the real world.

_He could never, he would never._

Taekwoon stops in front of him, releasing his hand and spreading his arms, showing the view to Wonshik.

_He could never deny Taekwoon anything._

Especially when right in front of his eyes he sees a torrent, with its streams running free, the sound of fresh water enveloping him.

He gasps, probably because Taekwoon is by his side chuckling and muttering something about how the view is more beautiful in summer.

And that makes his heart ache with want.

He wants that, he wants to watch the river flow until spring comes and the flowers bloom, and later, he wants to see the green become even greener, and he wants to hear all the birds. He wants.

And.

He blinks and looks at Taekwoon. The soft white strands of hair falling on his face, the spot right below his left eye the only thing that stands out of the paleness. And the black of his eyes, of course.

And the river too, he turns to look at it again marveling at the fact that such things, untouched and raw, still exist in the world.

It’s not that much of a pretty river, it would probably not look good in pictures, not like this at least, with the trees bare and with the frosted grass.

But, Wonshik muses, it’s as real as something can be, and that single thought makes him stir inside.

The river is real, just like the forest and Taekwoon.

Just like himself.

“Did you bring your notebook?” Taekwoon asks, face so close to his.

He smiles back taking the small notebook from his bag, “Of course I did.”

Taekwoon nods and walks away, choosing to sit right next to the river, his hands playing with the icy water. Wonshik could join him, but he has other plans, he looks at all the trees nearby, finally opting to sit below one big pine tree. Its trunk is rough and not comfortable at all, but it’s precisely what he needs at this moment. He opens the notebook, staring at the blank pages.

Wonshik stares and stares, the blankness looking just like his mind.

Where had his creativity gone?

After some minutes of just looking at nothing, Wonshik focus on other things. He focuses on the sounds of the river flowing away and away, trying to find the way back to the sea; and he focuses on the sounds of the birds and the rustle of leaves. Wonshik focuses, so much that he starts hearing a hum, an hymn. And he does know where that comes from.

Taekwoon is singing, lightly and softly, to himself and definitely to the waters.

It’s a beautiful melody, something Wonshik had never heard before.

And with that, he takes his black pen from his pocket and starts to write.

☾

The new routine constitutes of going to the river and write. That’s the idea of helping for Taekwoon, it seems. Not that Wonshik minds. After a couple of days, he starts to enjoy the quietness and harshness of the place.

It fits oh so well.

But it still lacks.

It’s probably written all over his face, the frustration, the hardship.

So, on a day where the skies are incredibly grey and the winds are unusually harsh, Taekwoon comes to sit by his side on the trunk of the pine tree. Wonshik’s tree.

“What’s the matter with you today?” Taekwoon asks, soft and small. A whisper.

“I don’t know what I’m doing.” He replies, showing the scribbled pages of the notebook, all black lines and scratches.

Taekwoon hums, tracing the letters with his fingers.

And that’s it, for minutes, Taekwoon looking at it, turning the pages from time to time and Wonshik just staring.

It’s quite maddening.

But then.

“You’re trying.”

Wonshik turns, looking at the other man like that’s the stupidest thing he had ever heard. It kinda is.

“Well yeah, as you can see.”

Taekwoon’s eyes shine with amusement.

“Trying is good. It’s more than enough, actually.”

“No, it’s not, I actually need to finish this before summer. So, no, trying is definitely not enough.”

“Why did you set that deadline?”

“I told you before,” Wonshik says, brushing his fingers on Taekwoon’s arm, “I’m leaving, going back to my old city life and all.”

Taekwoon squints, “Okay, if you say so. But I stand by what I said. Trying is enough.”

“It’s not.” He says to the sky, and even to himself, he sounds sad and lost.

Always lost, somehow.

But not quite as much, because Taekwoon, always affectionate and gentle Taekwoon, rests his chin on Wonshik’s shoulder, just the right angle to whisper his next words:

“Wonshikkie,” He says, “it’s all about intention, remember? You don’t need to know where you will end up, you just need to have the intention to do it.”

“That sounds awfully simple.”

He senses more than he hears Taekwoon chuckling.

It’s endearing and refreshing.

“But, the intention of what?” Wonshik adds.

“What do you want to sing about? What do you want to write?”

“I don’t know.” He manages.

Because he more or less knows. But fear, amongst other things, does block his way.

“You do know.” Taekwoon states.

He takes a deep breath.

And it feels like something shifts, the world, the place and everything around.

For a glimpse of a second, he feels heat creeping up on his skin, and he hears the birds sing and the song of cicadas and the low buzz of a summer’s day and he feels Taekwoon just right beside him laughing, and it’s wrong, but it’s so good, so good. The stream of the river flows endlessly and there are butterflies, the rays of sunshine burn, but it’s good.

Just like a summer’s day.

And, it’s over too soon.

But he knows, now.

He looks at Taekwoon with wonder.

“Okay.”

He receives a nod in return, a shy smile.

And then he begins to write.

Wonshik writes, and he writes a lot after that. He writes about whatever he wants, without a goal in mind because that’s not the point. Taekwoon had said so. And for all that it’s worth, Wonshik believes in him.

He says intention is all that matters, so it’s with intention that Wonshik writes.

Wonshik writes, about the current of the river that flows down the mountain, and he writes about when he was seventeen and got into a fight, and he writes about his first heartbreak. Wonshik writes about what he doesn’t know, too. He writes about the warmth of stability, and he writes about pale hands and black eyes.

Wonshik doesn’t know where he’s going, but he tells stories anyway.

He writes about that long lost summer day when he and his sister went to pick strawberries, and he writes about the stars that he once saw against a black sky.

He also writes about other things.

About the anger and the hurt, the fear and the pain.

He writes about thorns cutting his insides and hands that grab his limbs.

He writes about horns and about shadows that lurk on the side.

He writes about everything he can think about.

And, in the end, he writes about the steady beats of someone else’s heart, laying by his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah! Here it is ~ 
> 
> I told you this would become soft soon lol
> 
> Well, the year is ending, so I write this last note wishing everything good for all of you! ♡
> 
> See you on the other side;
> 
> @ [twitter](https://twitter.com/tttarkus)


	8. Interlude: white and still;

“How do you know when you feel _love_?” Taekwoon asks, in the softest voice possible.

Wonshik blinks, in amusement and maybe other things.

They stroll along the path in the forest, which they’ve been walking for some time now; and the sun is just rising, coloring everything with a whiteness that almost feels surreal, dreamy. Wonshik doesn’t know for how long they’ve been like this, just… wandering, not talking, not doing anything but walk.

But it’s always like this with Taekwoon, isn’t it? The sharp, soft silences. The shy smiles.

The questions.

And, for this question, in particular, Wonshik takes his sweet time to answer, opting to look at the dried leaves on the ground, or at the frost on the trees that is just starting to melt.

The sun is rising, and so is Wonshik’s heart.

He chuckles, “I think the feeling of love may vary.”

Taekwoon stops in his tracks, staring intently at Wonshik as if he held all the answers of the world.

That’s Wonshik cue to stop as well, continuing his train of thought: “I mean, if you’re looking for the sensation of it… I think it’s like… feeling hysteric, full of everything and nothing, as if you have a physical need to move around and just… do something with your hands. Or something.”

Taekwoon hums, “Is that it then?”

“No.” He shakes his head, looking at everywhere but at Taekwoon, he feels like his own heart will betray him if he takes a glance, “Sometimes, when I’m creating, making music, I think I feel love too, but it’s different, in the rare moments of inspiration, it feels like a thousand stars are exploding inside of you.”

“That’s a very odd way of describing love, Wonshik.”

He raises his eyebrows, surprised by the words.

“You were the one that asked.”

“I’m just curious.”

“Why?”

Taekwoon giggles, walking to a big tree and hiding behind the trunk.

The beams of morning lights, just starting to illuminate the forest, make the whole scene look ethereal.

Like a picture. All white and still.

“Taek?” He calls, circling the tree.

When he’s on the other side, he sees Taekwoon there, shoulders leaning heavily on the trunk, his eyes almost hidden in a big smile.

And that also looks like a picture, a dream. All white and still.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a little bonus! 
> 
> since i'm still on vacation (enjoying the winters wind of the northern hemisphere and all) i dont know exactly when i will update the next chapter... however! i'm so excited for what's to come! please, i'm so curious about what you guys are thinking about the story so far~ any of you have any guesses about what will happen? yes? no? i was rereading the end yesterday and oh my god, i got very emotional lol
> 
> anyway, thank you everyone! 
> 
> and, happy new!


	9. Winter III

Wonshik walks to his old silver car with hurried footsteps, the days had become so cold lately, a crippling, wet thing that never seemed to go away, even with the warm clothes and warm house. They were truly in winter now, with its greys skies and freezing gusts of winds. Not that Wonshik minds that much, however, there is something in the back of his mind that keeps bugging him. Something important.

He steps inside the car, shivering and hugging himself a little before starting the engine. The car shakes a bit before it gets going and Wonshik sighs with relief.

Old cars and their peculiarities.

The dirt road is still dangerous, from all the snow that melted and all the rain that kept falling, filled with bumps and holes. There is a particular muddy curve where his car almost doesn’t make it, and Wonshik thinks it would maybe be best if he bought a truck just like Hakyeon’s.

But money, and things.

And all the stuff he could never have.

The odd feeling still pesters him when he enters the small city, and he parks near Sanghyuk’s store with his mind settled on only buying strict necessities and going straight back up the mountain.

He wants… he wants to do something about this feeling, probably a song, or just a part of a melody. Anything to get it out of him.

The walk to the store is fast, and the tiny bell on the entrance door rings when he steps inside.

And that’s when he finally manages to breathe with ease. The smell of old and dust filling his entire being. He walks to the counter only to find no one there, which is somewhat alarming. So he decides to take a look at the store and its many shelves and aisles.

Strangely enough, the speakers play an old song that Wonshik used to hear when he was just a tiny little boy. And just like that, the odd feeling is back.

He shakes his head and looks.

One step in and he is in an aisle full of house utensils of many sizes and colors. Another step forward and he sees shelves and shelves of broken toys. On another, there’s a ton of bags of chips from many countries, and on one more, he sees a line of only empty aquariums. The whole scenery feels so strange to him that he can't help but to keep going. Ahead and ahead, trying to find the familiar face he wants to see. He reaches circular stairs that go downward, probably to the basement, and he decides to try using them. Nothing ever goes well in basements, but it’s not like he’s in an unsafe place. Right?

The dim lights flicker, and the steps feel loose under his feet, but he keeps going. Down and down, until he reaches the ground with a soft thud.

It looks like any regular basement, thankfully. Filled with construction equipment and.

And then Wonshik sees something he couldn’t even imagine could be in such a place.

Tentative footsteps bring him close to the object, the instrument.

Sitting in a dusty corner, as if it were nothing, he sees a small brown wooden piano. Old and creaky and definitely not playable but.

But it makes his heart ache with want.

It’s beautiful.

He touches the wood, feeling the rough surface, and, with almost trembling hands, he lifts the lid.

The keys look wonderfully white and black, a contrast to everything he had seen so far, shiny as if brand new. Tentatively, he presses one. The high pitched sound engulfing the whole silent room.

Wonshik trembles, too sensitive for the situation. He takes one, two steps back, still staring at that beautiful small piano.

He wants it so bad but –

“Wonshik?”

He hears the familiar voice of Sanghyuk coming from upstairs.

“Wonshik are you there?”

There’s footsteps descending the stairs and suddenly he feels a heavy hand on his shoulder.

“Oh.”

“Hey.” He says back, turning his head slightly, looking at the sheepish grin on Sanghyuk’s face.

“So you found it.”

“What?”

The lights in the basement flicker again and Sanghyuk approaches, standing beside Wonshik, staring at the piano.

“It’s yours,” Sanghyuk says with an unbearable calmness, “if you want it, of course.”

“What?” He repeats, surprised.

Sanghyuk chuckles, the sound filling the room. “This old thing, it’s been ages since I saw it, I thought it was lost forever, but apparently it wants you.”

Wonshik glares at Sanghyuk.

“I don’t understand.”

“Sometimes, some objects choose people, just like the silver chain I gave you. Remember?”

Wonshik touches the necklace, still there. He had almost forgotten he never took it off.

Sanghyuk gives him a broad smile.

“See, this piano is yours. Let me just…” He stops, reaching for his cellphone in his pocket and making a call.

Wonshik is still too dumbfounded to react much, so he just listens.

“Yeah, remember that old piano? Yeah. It appeared for Wonshikkie. Ah, yes. Sure. Oh? No, I don’t think so? Really?” Sanghyuk says to the phone in a hurry, “Okay, we will need Yeonnie to transport this thing, can you call him? Ah, great! See you soon!”

And just like that, it’s settled.

Sanghyuk promptly tells Wonshik how they will go about transporting the piano, assuring him that Hakyeon will deliver it as soon as possible. Which feels weird, given that he didn’t even buy the thing. But he only nods, lost on what to say, not being able to protest much. Because Sanghyuk is looking at him with stars in his eyes as if Wonshik just told him the secrets of the universe, and, also because he more or less wanted that thing in his house. Maybe it could show him some new things, maybe just looking at it could help.

He doesn’t understand the whys behind his want, but he’s glad all the same.

☾

When everything is said and done, Wonshik finds himself saying goodbye to Sanghyuk and Hakyeon at his doorstep, the sun barely setting and coloring the whole scene with a pinkish hue, somehow, that makes him long for something.

But now, he has an old piano in his studio, and maybe that’s what he needed.

It’s only when he settles on the couch, staring at the brown thing, that he notices he had forgotten his cellphone on top of his desk.

It’s been ages since he has been active in social media, or since he has talked with his friends.

Or family.

There’s a pang of guilt in his heart, something he knows oh too well, but there’s also freedom of some sorts.

Out of curiosity, he gets up and fetches the phone, grimacing when he looks at the time. He needs to start working, it’s already getting late.

And then he sees it, the notification of two missing calls of someone unexpected.

He dials back without even thinking.

The phone rings thrice before the soft, feminine voice he was used to hearing for so long answers him.

“Hello?”

“Sis,” He says in a rushed tone, “are you alright?”

Her laugh fills his ears.

“Look who appeared! Shikkie baby, how are you?”

He blinks in surprise, walking back to the couch and sitting comfortably once again.

“I – I’m good, and you?”

“Good too, everything is the same as always. Did you forget about today?”

“What?” He answers, running his mind back and forth trying to think on what could be so special about today that his sister, someone who he almost never talked to, called him.

She laughs even more, “Happy birthday! You’re twenty-six now!”

Oh.

“Oh.”

“You really forgot huh? I guess that happens when you reach a certain age, well. I just called to wish you all the best. To know if you’re alright. Are you still working on that tech company?”

The days had passed so fast, blurred all together, that Wonshik did forget about his birthday. Not that it was something worth celebrating to him, because _age_. But at the same time, he feels touched that his sister remembered.

God, he misses her.

“No, I’m – I’m doing other things now.”

“Ah, that’s awesome, are you in the city? We should meet sometime, I could bring the kids.”

He misses his nephews.

But.

“Oh, no, I’m hm.” How to explain the unexplainable? How to say he ditched the corporate life for a couple of months just so he could live in the middle of nowhere making music?

“Okay.” She says, “Don’t be a stranger, we’re still family, and I love you very much.”

_But do you?_ He wants to ask.

“I love you too.” He answers.

“You should call mom.”

“Is she alright?”

“Yeah, nothing happened, but you know. She’s also your mom. She didn’t call you today?”

“No…”

“Ah, I see.”

He takes a deep breath, “It’s fine, I – I should go back to this thing I’m working on…”

There are a few seconds of silence until:

“Are you still doing music?”

It’s abrupt, and her tone isn’t the most kind.

But Wonshik can’t blame her, not now, not ever.

“Yeah.”

“Well, I suppose it can’t be helped. I wish you all the best, Shik. Always.”

“Thanks, to you too. You know that.”

It’s awkward, their goodbyes, because of the years of distance, and the years of living such different lives.

But Wonshik’s words aren’t lies, and he assumes his sister’s aren’t either.

“Call me whenever, okay?” She says, her voice going softer.

“I will, thank you, sis.”

And just like that, they hang up, leaving Wonshik with the silence of his studio room.

And the old piano,

And his songs,

And, some sort of hope in his heart.

☾

Taekwoon arrives late at night, at a moment where Wonshik’s eyes are already watering because of exhaustion, and from looking at the laptop screen for hours. He enters quietly, slipping into the studio with small footsteps. It’s only when Wonshik doesn’t see the other man sitting by his side – something so usual, so familiar – that he turns his head.

Taekwoon is there, but he’s not doing much of anything other than staring at the newfound piano on the room.

“Hey, are you alright?” Wonshik tries, spinning the chair all the way to face Taekwoon completely.

“Where did you get this?”

Taekwoon points at the piano, and he does look like he has just seen a ghost, so Wonshik raises his eyebrows.

“The piano? My friend at the store gave it to me.”

“He _gave_ it to you?” Taekwoon says, sounding incredulous.

Wonshik looks at the piano and then looks back at Taekwoon, dragging his knees up and holding them close to his chest.

“It turns out it’s my birthday today…” And then he quickly adds: “Or it was, yesterday.”

The expression on Taekwoon’s face changes, softening his features, creating a small smile on his lips.

“Your birthday?”

“Yeah.”

Taekwoon approaches, cupping Wonshik’s face with his hands.

It’s soft and intimate, it feels foreign and right at the same time.

Taekwoon’s thumb rubs on Wonshik’s cheek as he says: “Happy late birthday Wonshik.”

He answers with a tired smile, leaning into the contact.

And suddenly, he’s tired, so tired. A heavy weight settling on his eyes, urging him to just lay down and sleep. It feels like a spell is been cast on his whole body, and, it’s only a few seconds before he closes his eyes that he hears the soft voice of Taekwoon saying:

“Sleep, darling. Sleep and tomorrow we shall celebrate.”

☾

The forest, in the morning, is quite a sight. And even if it’s winter and even if the trees are bare and the soil is humid, with every corner looking half-dead, Wonshik still feels himself awed by the sight. It also makes him want to stay for spring, and summer, and autumn and many many seasons yet to come.

But he can’t. And that’s also not the reason why he’s in the forest today.

Taekwoon had said earlier that for his birthday he wanted to show him another place, a special place. And, of course, Wonshik had nodded and followed. Like always.

And just like always, their walk stretches for hours. Something surreal, filled with the silence of their footsteps on the mud and dried leaves.

They take quite some time to arrive, so much so that Wonshik becomes restless. The action of only following the other man through the forest making him think of all the troubles in his mind. His age, his family, his career and his art.

And Taekwoon.

And perhaps, that’s why he decides to break the distance, the silence.

“I want to get to know you.” Wonshik says, quietly.

Taekwoon stops walking upon hearing this, but doesn’t move from his position, he doesn’t take a step forward or back. Just stands there, unmoving, his broad shoulders and his white hair not indicating anything. And, for Wonshik, it’s somewhat hard, because he does, he honestly does want to know more about the other man. It’s a sensation, a raw feeling that pricks his mind every time Taekwoon leaves. He asks himself then, what does he truly knows about Taekwoon? Nothing, except. Except he kind of knows some things. He knows Taekwoon can sing, and he knows Taekwoon loves the night and the moon; he knows a little bit of Taekwoon’s love for animals and nature, and he does know that Taekwoon loves to listen, but barely talks.

But that’s not enough, is it?

Because, in the end, Taekwoon is still a mystery, an enigma. Wonshik can’t pinpoint exactly where he fits.

“Why?”

Comes the soft answer, the whisper in the cold air.

Wonshik takes the necessary steps to reach Taekwoon, placing a tentative hand on his shoulder.

“I’m curious.”

Taekwoon turns, his black eyes staring, measuring, but there’s amusement too, and a shining light, somewhere. He blinks.

“What do you want to know?”

And the small distance and the playful tone are all the indications Wonshik needs to give Taekwoon a big bright smile.

“Everything,” he replies happily, “I wanna know what’s your favorite color and if you believe in aliens. If you enjoy cheesy romances or if you’re more like an action type of guy. I wanna know if you are afraid of the future, or taxes! Or if you even pay taxes…”

Taekwoon grins, laughing.

“You’re so precious. Come, let’s walk and I will tell you about some things.” He stands a hand, pointing to Wonshik the way.

This time, they walk side by side, with a little difficulty – yes – because the path is narrow and not made for two people to walk like that, but they manage, with Taekwoon holding Wonshik’s hands on the most challenging parts.

And they also talk.

Well, mostly Taekwoon does, which is a miracle of some sorts.

The few rays of sunshine reach Taekwoon’s face every time he turns to Wonshik to say something, and he listens, intently. As much as he can while also focusing on his steps.

Wonshik learns some things. Wonshik learns that Taekwoon likes spicy foods and that, no, he doesn’t pay taxes anymore because he decided to live outside of society. Wonshik does question him on that and, in turn, he learns that that is an answer he will receive another day, if ever.

The forest becomes thicker, the sun starts to make its descent in the sky, and they are still walking, Taekwoon still talking.

Wonshik learns that Taekwoon’s favorite color is any, and white and blue and red; and he also learns some other, more intimate things.

“I used to be a musician, a pianist, let’s say.”

Wonshik stops in his tracks, pulling Taekwoon with him.

“What? All this time you’ve been watching me suffer because of my music, and you did nothing?”

Taekwoon stares at him, unbothered.

“You only asked me to sing.”

“But!”

“Besides, I wasn’t even that good.” Taekwoon says, continuing to walk ahead.

And Wonshik is faced yet again with the broad shoulders, white hair, and no real answers. He doesn’t want that, so he runs to catch up.

“I can’t say if you were good or bad, and at this point, it doesn’t even matter. Will you show me?”

A cool breeze passes through them, shaking the strands of hair and their trench coats. Wonshik shivers, because of that and because of the way Taekwoon looks at him.

“Well.”

“Please.”

And he doesn’t know why he’s begging, or why this is so important. Hell, if Taekwoon doesn’t feel comfortable playing, who’s Wonshik to force him? But. There’s always a but, hidden deep inside.

Wonshik doesn’t want to look at that right now.

“Well.” Taekwoon says again, finally stopping, finally retaking Wonshik’s hand, “since you do have a piano now… and if it’s only for you, I will consider.”

The words hit him as a victory.

A couple more steps ahead, and Taekwoon is pulling him quicker now, “We’re almost there.”

And _there_ is quite a sight.

Taekwoon shoves some bushes to the side and finally – finally – Wonshik sees it.

Wonshik sees everything. The woods and the sky and –

They are at the highest peak of the mountain, it seems, and Wonshik can see how the forest spreads to the point he can’t see anything other than the trees and a few greens and greys everywhere. The forest, in all its entirety and its glory. It’s beautiful and so big, bigger than what Wonshik expected, bigger than…

Taekwoon squeezes his hand, bringing him back to the moment.

“The sunset here is beautiful, but I’m afraid you will have a hard time walking back at night.”

“Oh.”

He stares. They had climbed up quite far up, that would explain why it took so long.

“How do you know so much about this forest? Isn’t it dangerous?”

Taekwoon tilts his head to the side, “Why dangerous? I know my way here, you should be aware of that by now.”

“I – yes, yes. I know.”

However, there’s still something.

Something that doesn’t add up.

And, since he’s asking questions and receiving answers…

“A friend of mine told me people disappear in these woods.”

“Ah.” Taekwoon nods, closing his eyes.

“Do you know about that?”

“We should go back before the sun sets.”

Wonshik squints at him, “If we’re going back now, after three hours of walking and only staying here for what, five minutes? You will be playing the piano for me. As punishment.”

And he says that in a playful tone, but inside he can feel that Taekwoon is hiding something.

But it’s not the right moment.

And Wonshik, really, he is a patient man.

Taekwoon seems glad for that, nodding and starting to walk back.

It’s not the perfect answer, Taekwoon never gives him those.

But it’s something.

And, in the end, Wonshik did learn things. Because, just like in songs, the silence also speaks much.

When they finally arrive at Wonshik’s house, with night already downing upon them, Wonshik makes Taekwoon sit in front of the old piano. Both of them having a fight of stares.

But Wonshik, he’s a master of working around difficult situations like this.

“You have an odd way of celebrating someone’s birthday, so now I guess I can ask this from you, right?”

Taekwoon sighs, tilting his head to look at Wonshik.

“You didn’t like it?”

“What? No… it’s not that.”

“But?”

He fidgets with the ends of his sweater, opting to sit next to Taekwoon.

“I wanted to stay up there a little more.”

“Oh.” Taekwoon says, “We can do that during summer, when the days are longer and everything is green.”

Hearing that makes Wonshik feel emotional, sentimental and hurt.

“I won’t be here for summer, I told you several times.”

Taekwoon shifts, pressing one single key of the piano.

The sound is bright and clear, as if the piano wasn’t that old.

“And I told you several times that you can stay if you want.”

But that’s a talk for another day, both of them know it.

“Come on, just play something for me.” He says, pouting a little.

Taekwoon chuckles and begins, pressing each key with precision.

And the sound, and the hands.

And the moment.

It’s all quite beautiful, making Wonshik think that, perhaps, this was one of his best birthdays.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello loves!
> 
> i hope 2019 is treating you all okay!
> 
> this chapter was supposed to be longer but nini and I decided to split it in two... so yeah, i hope you have enjoyed it! next update will probably be soon ~
> 
> (♡ >ω< ♡)


	10. Winter IV

The old piano brings another kind of light into Wonshik’s life, another type of inspiration. The sounds and songs Taekwoon plays for him are entirely different from his style or what he wants to do with his music, but, nonetheless, it makes his heart beat faster, and it makes him create.

It’s wonderful, and Taekwoon is wonderful too.

However, as March approaches quickly, with its cold winds and incessant rains, Wonshik finds himself dwelling on something he is pretty used to.

The all too well-known anxiety and –

The bad dreams with their darkness and –

_The hands and the whispers and_

He wakes up every time sweating and gasping for air, with the bedsheets restraining him. He doesn’t understand why they’re back, why now. But he also doesn’t want to bring that up to anyone. Not even to himself, probably.

However, he can’t hide it, as much as he wants to.

“You’re bothered.” Taekwoon states in one cold afternoon.

The man is comfortably sprawled on the couch, heavy blankets on top of him, curled on himself just like a big cat, while Wonshik is at the desk, looking intently at the screen for what seemed like hours.

“Am not.”

He hears shuffling, and he hears Taekwoon approaching.

That certainly bothers him.

“Tell me what happened.”

He turns his face, looking at those black eyes.

“Nothing happened.”

And he knows this time he’s being really difficult and immature, but, he also has the right to not tell Taekwoon things.

Gosh, he doesn’t even want to think about –

Taekwoon takes his hand, “Come here.”

Just like that, Wonshik lets himself be dragged from his position to the bench in front of the old piano.

A weak heart for black eyes, probably.

Taekwoon sits next to him, and it’s not the best fit, it’s uncomfortable, and there’s not enough room for both of them. Wonshik thinks of a bad joke to make, to create a lighter atmosphere of some sorts, but Taekwoon quickly opens the lid of the piano and takes Wonshik’s hands back, positioning them on top of his.

Wonshik takes a deep breath.

“Taek, what are you doing?”

“Follow my hands.”

Taekwoon presses one key, together with Wonshik.

The sound reverberates through the silence.

“Let’s play together. I can teach you.” Taekwoon says with a small smile.

Wonshik almost vibrates with anxiety.

“I – I know how to play, I guess. I don’t know. I used to take piano classes a long time ago.”

“Yeah?” Taekwoon says pressing another key, “Follow me then, we can create something beautiful.”

Wonshik laughs, “Or something completely horrible.”

“That’s not the point.” He answers, starting to play the piano effortlessly.

For a couple of seconds, Wonshik just sits there, watching Taekwoon hands do all the work, and he would feel glad to just stay like this. But Taekwoon leans on him, pushing him a little.

“Come on.”

And Wonshik grumbles something, but ends up complying with Taekwoon’s request all the same.

A weak heart, for music and gentle words.

☾

There’s darkness inside the dream.

Darkness and whispers of failure.

Failure and hands that make him unable to move forward or back.

He drowns in them, suffocating, gasping, crying for help.

There’s darkness and,

A sound.

A single sound he hears throughout the entirety of this black world.

A piano key is pressed.

He opens his eyes to find only darkness, but the sound is there all the same.

He tries, oh, he really tries to take one step forward in the direction of the sound.

And he hears an owl howling, and car horns and the sound of the rain falling and falling, and wood being burned and –

A song.

He takes one step forward.

☾

Mid-march arrives with incessant heavy rains, and not much to do besides staying at home. Everything is wet and cold and wet. And Wonshik – poor Wonshik – doesn’t know what else he can do other than work on his stuff and pray for some ray of sunshine. Pray for the nightmares to end.

He occasionally goes to the small city, to grab food with Sanghyuk and to talk with Hongbin. Hongbin doesn’t speak much, he says it’s because of the rain, that it makes him depressed and remind him of bad days. Hakyeon is unusually busy, doing whatever it is that he does for a job.

And Jaehwan. Well.

Wonshik rolls out of bed, already feeling tired. It feels like it’s been months since he’s had a good night of sleep, and he knows that to be untrue because the nightmares hadn’t been bothering him much before his birthday.

He should look into that, but not right now. It’s early, and he’s in a dire need of a coffee.

He walks down the stairs stumbling a little, his bare feet cold on the wooden floors.

As he opens the kitchen door, the smell of freshly brewed coffee fills his nose and he sighs contently.

He calls for the only person who would do that for him.

“Taekwoon?”

However, his eyes roam the room only to find someone who’s definitely not Taekwoon.

Jaehwan is there, sitting on top of the kitchen’s counter, wearing his police uniform and swinging his legs back and forth, holding a mug in both of his hands. The sight could be endearing if it weren’t for the inquiring eyes.

“Who?” Jaehwan asks him.

“Uh.”

Jaehwan shakes his head, jumping to the ground and taking the kettle to pour coffee for Wonshik.

“How are you, sleeping beauty?”

Wonshik scoffs, taking the mug from Jaehwan’s hands.

“It’s like, eight in the morning? What are you even doing here?”

The other pouts, “I just came back from work, I thought a visit would be a good thing.”

That makes Wonshik’s heart soften. He walks to the counter and sits on top of it, patting the place by his side so Jaehwan can sit there as well.

“Thank you.” He mutters, “How are things? Too many patrols?”

“Nah.” Jaehwan sips his coffee with a grin, “There’s not much to do when you live in such a small city like this.”

He hums, acknowledging Jaehwan’s words.

“What about you? How are your nightmares?”

He opens his mouth to answer, the words just right on the tip of his tongue when he notices what Jaehwan really asked.

He turns, staring at Jaehwan’s profile, “How?”

Jaehwan shrugs, unbothered, “Word travels fast, apparently.”

Wonshik carefully places the coffee mug beside him and turns his body to openly stare at Jaehwan.

“I didn’t tell anybody.”

Jaehwan smiles into his mug, expression mischievous.

“More often than not, you don’t need to say anything for people to perceive what’s happening, Wonshik, if they truly pay attention to you.”

He wants to glare, to counter argument or something. But it’s true, isn’t it?

“So!” Jaehwan speaks loudly, startling Wonshik, “I also came as the bearer of good news!” He claps his hands, together with the mug, dripping some of the coffee on his pants and on the floor.

“Really?”

Jaehwan shuffles, placing his mug on Wonshik’s hand and working to take something out of his back pocket.

“Here.”

Wonshik squints because he remembers – quite clearly – what happened when he took a card from Jaehwan’s hands.

“No, nope.”

“Please! I promise this one is good!”

Jaehwan almost shoves the card in Wonshik’s face, and the place is not ideal for that kind of movement, so Wonshik stumbles to the ground, taking the card and Jahewan’s mug with him.

By some kind of miracle, nothing breaks, and nothing gets dirtied.

And, Wonshik, sitting on the cold floors of his kitchen, finally looks at the card.

“Oh.”

“I told you it was good.” Jaehwan says, jumping off the counter and sitting on the floor together with Wonshik.

He barely registers that Jaehwan is talking, opting to look at the thing.

It is pretty, and good, probably. At least the drawings aren’t as aggressive as the last one Jaehwan showed him. No, on the contrary, on this one he can see a lady pouring water into an endless river, and stars, a big bright star at the center and seven little ones around it. It’s a gorgeous card, full of –

“It’s you, Wonshik.” Jaehwan says, interrupting Wonshik’s train of thought.

“What?”

He inspects the card some more, the bold black letters read “ _The Star_ ” and it seems obvious, but it’s not.

“What does this means?”

Jaehwan pets his hair.

“The star, my precious Wonshikkie, it’s you, but it’s also what’s to come. The hope and the light. There are many interpretations, but in the end it’s just one thing. You’re you, Wonshik. You’re finally arriving.”

“I –”

For lack of better words, he just grabs the card more firmly.

“You can keep it.” Jaehwan smiles, brushing a strand of hair off Wonshik’s face, “I need to go, though. Just wanted to give you this, since it was your birthday and you didn’t tell us.”

He holds the card close to his heart.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

Jaehwan gets up, kissing Wonshik’s forehead gently and walking away, but Wonshik barely notices it, too immersed in looking at the card on his hands.

The star.

The star shines, somewhere.

And if the star is Wonshik…

He takes the mug of coffee that’s right next to him and takes a sip.

He grimaces at the lukewarm liquid but.

But if the star is Wonshik, and if the star is light and hope.

Then, maybe he’s not as lost as he thought.

☾

There’s the darkness again, and the whispers.

And the hands that make him unable to move. But, this time, the hands aren’t quite hands at all.

He feels it, piercing through his heart, his body, hurting and bleeding and making him stay in place.

Fear cripples in, and the whispers become frantic, rushed.

There’s no light, but he knows that there’s a set of three swords piercing through his body and it just hurts, he can feel the blood dripping and falling on the endless blackness of this world and –

A single sound, a piano key being pressed by gentle hands.

He gasps for air, tasting the blood in his mouth.

He needs to, he needs to take another step forward, he needs to move and he needs to go.

The swords pierce him some more.

And it hurts but –

The sound echoes again and now it sounds not like random keys being pressed but like an actual melody.

He takes one step forward, and then another. The swords getting heavier and heavier, the whispers, now screaming at him.

Far ahead, right in the direction of the sounds, he sees something, he finally sees! A light, a tiny star.

He takes another step.

☾

A quiet night. That’s all he needs and that’s all he gets.

The sky is as clear as it can be, here, so far away from the big cities, with the stars glimmering impossibly bright. And it’s a new moon too. Wonshik knows that by now. He knows because Taekwoon knows.

Taekwoon rarely talks much, but when he does, well, it’s about the moon and the stars and _important_ things.

But tonight. Tonight there is no Taekwoon, or Hakyeon or Jaehwan. There’s no one, really.

And it’s perfect.

It’s still cold, sure, but the rain had subdued, and he had decided to venture outside, with his headphones on and his favorite instrumental album playing.

Because music, sometimes – most of the times – it’s just a matter of feeling it.

So, he stays there, outside, looking at the stars and just… breathing, listening.

He barely notices when he starts swinging with the rhythm, or when his feet start to move him.

It only downs upon him when he’s entirely slow dancing with himself, arms open wide and an odd taste of freedom. In this moment there’s only himself and the stars.

_The star_.

He closes his eyes, the song enrapturing his whole being.

There’s no need for more, really, and he’s reminded of how and why he loves music so much. Of why it is such an intrinsic part of himself.

At that instant, there’s nothing more in the world, just him and the music.

He feels, so much, it’s bigger than love and bigger than happiness. It’s bigger than any name he could put on it, and he doesn’t think much, because the sensation feels almost holy.

A purpose, even if there’s nothing left.

And even if he’s uncharacteristically alone, and even if he’s lost, there are things that he still holds dear in his heart.

It’s enough.

☾

Wonshik presses the piano key at the same time Taekwoon presses another, like this, they start to create a song together.

It’s an intimate thing, so much so that Wonshik has to know Taekwoon’s movements beforehand so he can play the right tune. It should be hard, it should be impossible. But strangely enough, it’s not.

His heart swells with emotion and pride. Especially when Taekwoon whispers to him words of praise, telling him how good he’s doing, how wonderful he is.

Wonshik doesn’t know where this is going, but he doesn’t find it in himself to care.

And when Taekwoon leans his head on his shoulder, after a specific kind of melody, and downright kisses Wonshik’s cheek, he can’t help but blush and smile.

And when Taekwoon gets close, too close, Wonshik can’t help but lean forward, almost brushing their noses.

_Not yet not yet_.

He turns his head, focusing on the piano, trying to calm his racing heart. Trying to convey what he’s feeling with sounds.

Taekwoon only chuckles.

Not yet.

☾

The darkness holds him behind, the swords pierce into his heart – his soul.

Wonshik can’t move, can’t do anything other than to feel the pain and hear the whispers of failure. He bleeds into the ground of darkness, and it hurts. So much.

The swords, the blood and the hands. In the midst of it all, he hears.

The sound of a piano being played.

The soft, calm melody he had heard before, somewhere.

Struggling all the way, he takes two steps forward, the blood dripping from his chest, the taste of it in his mouth making him almost faint.

But the sound.

He looks up, he looks down. There are only darkness and the pain.

And the melody.

He takes another step forward and –

A light! A tiny star shining ahead.

He tries to run, he tries to walk faster.

But he can’t, the swords are too heavy, his body is heavy.

The whispers become screams and it hurts.

He feels blood on his hands and on his tongue but –

The little star gets more prominent, illuminating the path ahead.

The screams and the song merge together, the path to the star becomes clearer.

He sees a crosswalk, and he sees blood red blood, and he sees mud and grass and –

The melody stops, the screams stop.

The pain stops.

Wonshik looks ahead, to the star.

But it isn’t a star anymore, he sees clearly: an old brown piano and someone sitting there, white hair, white clothes. The person shines, and his heart stutters a bit.

He runs then, runs for his life and runs for the song, a name almost slipping out of his mouth.

Wonshik wakes up before he can reach, before he can speak.

☾

“Just stay right where you are.”

Wonshik sighs, defeated.

Hakyeon had come barging into his house in the early hours of the morning, demanding Wonshik’s assistance in something that he didn’t quite explain. Which could be usual, if not for the maniacal look on Hakyeon’s eyes and his only tool being one single white piece of chalk.

“What are you even doing?” He asks in a tone that’s almost rude, but he reserves the right to be, because god, he hadn’t even had breakfast yet.

“I just need your help to test this little something, please Wonshikkie you’re my only hope.”

“How can I even help you if you didn’t tell me what exactly you’re planning to do?”

Hakyeon smiles at him, mischievous and full of teeth.

“Now now, you don’t need to know. Plus, it’s sort of confidential.”

Wonshik stays where Hakyeon had put him. Not wanting to fight or think much.

Hakyeon is weird in his own ways, and it’s not like he’s not used to it by now.

But really, in the morning?

He watches as Hakyeon kneels on the wooden floors, taking the chalk carefully on his hands and starting to draw a circle around Wonshik.

He takes a firmly deep breath.

Fucking mornings.

“Are you really doing some black magic on me right now Hakyeon?”

Hakyeon finishes drawing and stands up from his position, moving the chalk in front of Wonshik’s face – but never stepping inside the circle.

“Who do you think I am to do black magic?”

Wonshik raises his eyebrows in question.

“No. Relax. It’s just a test.”

“A test.”

Hakyeon kneels again, starting to draw some curious and foreign symbols.

It will be such a pain to clean this later, Wonshik thinks while watching the intrinsic work.

Hakyeon takes his sweet time drawing the symbols around the circle, and Wonshik, he can’t do much now that he’s in this position, can he? He remembers then that Hakyeon is a specialist, a specialist in fixing things. Black magic or not, Wonshik’s heart starts to beat faster with fear.

“Hakyeon?”

“Yeah?”

“Hakyeon, are you – are you trying to fix me?” He asks.

At that, Hakyeon stands up again, cleaning the remnants of white chalk on his black pants and dirtying himself even more.

Wonshik opts to look at Hakyeon’s once black pants instead of his eyes.

“Oh dear, oh no.” Hakyeon speaks, using the most soothing voice possible, “How could I fix something that doesn’t need to be fixed?”

Hakyeon’s hands move, almost touching Wonshik’s face but not quite. It’s the circle.

“That’s why I could only do this to you. You’re already whole.”

Wonshik blinks at the words and at the way Hakyeon clasps his hands.

He doesn’t feel anything other than a shiver, but Hakyeon smiles at him, entering the circle and holding him firmly.

“It worked! Oh, Wonshik thank you! It worked.”

He smiles, hugging Hakyeon back.

Whatever worked, worked.

☾

It’s the dream again. Wonshik knows it because he can only see the darkness ahead and can just feel the pain of three swords piercing through his chest.

However, this time, there are no sounds, no whispers, no melodies.

He takes one step forward with ease.

No blood drops from his wounds, no star appear to light his path.

It still hurts, but he manages to walk, aimlessly – yes – but still forward.

He spends what seem like years walking, not seeing anything, not hearing anything, only the pain and the heaviness of the swords.

And the darkness.

But something must have changed somewhere along the way, because slowly he can see the ground he’s stepping on. He can see dried leaves and moss, mud and dirt.

He’s barefoot, but nothing hurts – not as much as the swords.

He walks, looking at the sides.

He sees buildings and the greyness of skyscrapers, he sees cars and buses driving by. He hears sirens and so many lights and –

And he sees big trees with trunks all white and brown, he sees the endlessly of woods and a weak light shining ahead.

He runs. He runs to the light, through the forest, not minding the weight of the swords or the way the twigs of the trees scratch his face.

He runs and runs.

Until there it is, the source of the light.

It’s a clearing, with sunlight coming from the canopy of trees, and just right in the middle, the familiar old piano.

And the person, in all white, with white hair, pale hands.

He stops.

The name is almost slipping, because he knows who this is.

Doesn’t he?

The light becomes stronger, burning his skin a little.

He opens his mouth to call for the other.

And that’s when the person turns and looks at him with heavy eyes, not quite black.

Wonshik looks and what he sees is wrong. The hair is white, but it’s not as long as the one he remembered, the nose, a different shape, and the lips and the cheeks. And the eyes, the eyes are oh so different from the ones he holds so dear.

The person grins at him, raising one single eyebrow and oh, Wonshik knows that person, he knows, he had been knowing his whole life, had been staring at that face in the mirror every day.

He moves forward, wanting to touch, wanting to scream and pull and ask why.

And then.

The person, the image of himself, holds out a hand.

Wonshik takes it and –

Wonshik opens his eyes, staring at the whiteness of the ceiling.

Outside, he can hear the morning birds singing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaaand, the end of winter. anyone has thoughts on what will happen when spring arrives? 
> 
> spring is my favorite season ever, and so i planned lots of beautiful things ~ 
> 
> ah, and i'm also so so thankful to everyone who's been following this story, reading, commenting and everything. it means so much, thank you, my dear ones ♡
> 
> blessed be ━━☆⌒*
> 
> (come talk to me about magic and vixx @ [twitter](https://twitter.com/tttarkus) )


	11. Interlude: the blue skies of hope;

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a super short one! i'm sorry loves, i will be updating the 'real' chapter soon ~

On the 20th of March, the endless rain finally subdues, leaving behind little green buds on the trees and blue, marvelous skies up above.

The air smells fresh and earthy, and Wonshik thinks for a second that he had never breathed such pure air in his whole life.

It’s still cold, too cold to be standing outside barefoot and only wearing a t-shirt and loose pants, but he can’t help it. Not when there are dozens of little birds flying by, singing happily; and not when it seems like the whole world is singing with them. Singing a song about life and the sun.

And the blue skies.

He takes a step ahead, right into the grass that’s just starting to get green again, and he rejoices in the fresh feeling.

He was never the nature type of guy, he was always the typical city boy, going out to clubs, driving, living during the night.

But things change, and if even the seasons do, who’s Wonshik to not change as well?

Wonshik may be no one. Wonshik may be nothing, or everything. But he’s still himself.

And there’s still hope if the trees and grass can become alive again.

Hope.

It also comes with slow footsteps and a brush of fingers on his shoulder.

He takes a deep breath before looking at the man standing beside him.

Taekwoon is here – of course he is here – looking as pretty as the day ahead of them, as sunny and comfortable.

“Hey.” Wonshik says, more out of habit than anything.

The other answers with a nod and small smile.

There’s no need for words when the world surrounding them is already saying so much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> spring begins ~
> 
> oh, i forgot to add it in the last chapter... some time ago i wrote a "tarot 101" for people who were interested, it's very simple, really, but if anyone who's reading this story wants it, here it is: [tarot 101](https://docs.google.com/document/d/160nd87fxtbc0OEGyBNzkiAc5mAdDEJIs5RVUA7AIOX0/edit?usp=sharing)
> 
> always sending love xx


	12. Spring I

Spring begins with a new goal set in mind: to finally release all the songs Wonshik created during his stay at the house in the mountain.

It’s a difficult task, because it involves editing and listening to the same thing for hours and hours.

To finally put the songs together as one piece, it also means the time of his stay is ending.

Three more months, that’s all he has to finish it and go back to his boring city life.

Not that… living in the city was boring, not at all. Quite the contrary. Some could argue that living so close to nature and so far away from the big crowds was the most boring option but.

But Wonshik changed his mind long ago.

It all changed with black eyes and white hair; and –

It all changed with a dimpled smile and afternoons with all different kinds of alcohol, and, with a tall boy who was way too kind, and, with a cheerful police officer who talked too much, and with a unique man who just wanted to help the whole world.

And the forest, the nature and the moon. All that, piling up together in his heart and making him ache.

He interrupts his raging thoughts just so he can look out of the window.

It’s nighttime, but the lights on the porch shine brightly, with some moths roaming around. The edges of the forest are dark, though, and the whole state of the yard makes him grimace because he ought to take care of it sometime soon.

It’s the only reason he’s staying at this place, after all, to take care of the house and make it beautiful for summer.

Wonshik feels somewhat guilty for not doing that task with much enthusiasm but, oh well.

His eyes go from the garden to the empty pool, an idea forming in his mind.

_If_ it gets hot… if the heat gets unbearable… maybe he could try to fill it up. He’s sure Hakyeon and the others would help him out, would even love the idea.

And maybe. Maybe he could call Taekwoon too, make all of them meet.

How that would turn out, he doesn’t know. He starts to play a very blurry scene in his mind, of himself grabbing Taekwoon by his hand and shoving him into the others’ faces, saying ‘ _yeah this is my friend who apparently lives in the woods._ ’

That’s precisely the sort of thing the others would love.

He chuckles.

And it’s as though just thinking about Taekwoon is enough to summon him, because right in the next moment he hears knocks on the door, which, by all means, were an unnecessary thing, since he hears the sound of said door opening and footsteps following it.

He shuffles in his seat, tilting his head to watch the other man walk towards him. In that glimpse of a moment, he notices some things – as if he didn’t stare at Taekwoon for five minutes straight the other day, as if he was seeing Taekwoon again for the very first time – Taekwoon’s white hair, now longer, reaching his high cheekbones; Taekwoon’s eyes, always black, but now shining with delight; Taekwoon’s body frame and Taekwoon’s hands and –

Taekwoon sits on the chair next to him, placing his hand under his chin and looking up.

“So.”

“So.” Wonshik says, mimicking the other’s position.

“What are you doing tonight?”

And the close proximity and Taekwoon’s eyes, together with the faint light coming from the window, make everything look softer than what really is.

Wonshik smiles.

“I’m just finishing up some little touches on this track. Are you staying?” He asks, moving his head to the side, pointing at the laptop screen, “It can be quite boring since I need to listen to the same passage over and over again.”

Taekwoon huffs, “Of course I’m staying, you’re using my voice and my insights in many of these songs.”

“Oh, so you just want to make sure I don’t mess up? Don’t you have any faith in me?”

“I –” Taekwoon stops, closing his eyes, “It’s not just because of _that_ that I’m staying.”

Wonshik hums, finding the whole situation quite amusing.

“So you’re telling me all those months you stayed here by my side weren’t so you could criticize my work?”

Taekwoon turns his face to the other side, away from Wonshik; however, there’s still a faint blush on his cheeks and ears, the artificial lights from the laptop making sure it appears.

Taekwoon shakes his head before he lets out a tiny whisper.

“What?” Wonshik comes closer, almost leaning on the other’s shoulder, “I didn’t hear you.”

“I like your company.” He answers in a barely audible voice.

It should be obvious by now, but the real words being spoken out loud shake Wonshik’s heart all the same.

Lost on what to say, Wonshik places one hand on Taekwoon’s shoulders, pushing him slightly so he can move from his position.

The moment Taekwoon is facing him again, looking as soft and as small as possible, Wonshik smiles at him, a sincere, kind smile.

And the moment would be perfect to act upon his heart’s desires, with Taekwoon’s lips looking inviting, with the faint blush on his cheeks.

But.

_Not yet not yet._

Wonshik turns quickly, facing the laptop screen again.

“I actually need your help with something.” He says, rushed, stumbling upon his words, typing something senseless on the keyboard.

He hears Taekwoon trying to hide a laugh.

“Okay, then.”

☾

They’re quiet as Wonshik plays the song again and again, with Taekwoon only humming with the beat and making smart remarks here and there. But it’s tiresome and fun at the same time, so much so that they barely see the time. Which is usual. Staying awake the whole night working on music is the usual, always was, for Wonshik.

But, as he presses the pause button for the millionth time and looks at Taekwoon, he notices the other got entirely still, his eyes widening.

“Hey, are you alright?” He asks, concern lacing his voice.

Taekwoon looks frightened, with his mouth slightly open, looking out at the window.

And suddenly, he gets up.

“Wonshik I –” He pauses, pressing his left hand on Wonshik’s shoulders and leaning down, “Wonshik, you should sleep, _darling_.”

The pet name is strange, odd. Wonshik vaguely remembers a time when Taekwoon called him darling, but it’s all so fuzzy and suddenly –

Taekwoon leans closer and kisses his forehead.

“Go to sleep.”

Wonshik hears it, but he’s already closing his eyes, a fog clouding his every sense.

It’s the sound of fingers drumming on wood that makes him open his eyes again.

It seems like he had actually slept on the desk. Again. He groans, with a headache starting to appear in the back of his mind.

He’s confused beside himself when he straightens up and looks at the person making all those noises.

He’s greeted with a view of a face he wasn’t quite expecting.

“Hakyeon?”

“It’s not healthy to sleep like that, Wonshik.” Hakyeon replies sternly, still tapping his fingers on the desk.

“Huh.”

Hakyeon stops, something like a grin ghosting on his face.

“Anyway, I see you’re working hard.”

Wonshik sighs, not having the strength to turn the laptop on to see what time is it.

“What are you doing here Hakyeon? Gonna do some more black magic on me or something?”

He receives a gasp as an answer:

“I told you before! I don’t meddle with black magic.”

He laughs despite the tiredness, thoughts that he’s missing something important about the situation leaving him quite restless.

“But you did come here to do magic.”

“No.” Hakyeon says, “Not this time.”

And is as good a time as any, isn’t it? To ask about the obvious, to ask about what he had wanted to ask since he had met the other man.

“So you really do magic.”

Hakyeon looks bashful for a moment, hugging himself.

For a moment, Hakyeon looks small and young.

“I guess? I didn’t want to say it out loud so as to not scare you or something. People can get really weird when they know about it.”

Wonshik raises his eyebrows, shifting so he can face Hakyeon properly.

“I’m not scared.”

“Of course you’re not.” Hakyeon says, not looking at Wonshik, “You… you have some sort of interesting energy.”

“Yeah?” He replies, a hint of doubt in his words.

His back hurts, his neck hurts, and there’s still something amiss, but when Hakyeon finally turns, placing his hands on Wonshik’s, he kindly forgets about all that.

“Would you like to learn? Magic? I could teach you.”

And he feels then, a warm feeling starting from his hands and spreading throughout his whole body.

That scares him.

And it also reminds him of _something_.

(someone)

“Oh no. I don’t think I would be fit for that.” He says, “Plus, I’m too down to earth to… you know, believe in those things.”

Hakyeon takes his hands away gently, tilting his head to the side, “But you do believe in me, right?”

“Well yeah.”

“Magic is all about intention.” Hakyeon says, raising his voice, “If you have the intention to make the thing work, it will work. Simple as that.”

Those words ring a bell inside Wonshik’s mind, but it’s late and he can’t quite remember where he had heard them before. He rests his head on his hand, nodding so Hakyeon can continue.

“When I first came across magic, I was just like you. I didn’t believe in it, I didn’t think something like that could even exist in this harsh, cruel world. But the person who taught me… He was so kind, so patient. I’m glad now that he took the time to teach me.”

“What made you change your mind?”

Hakyeon smiles, a bittersweet thing that didn’t fit his features.

“The circumstances, and my desire to help, to make things better and easier for everyone. Actually, the first one who jumped into the magic bandwagon was Hongbin, not me.”

“Oh?” That was really something unexpected.

“I know, I know.” Hakyeon waves his hands in the air, “Quite impossible to imagine, right? But as I said. Circumstances. To be in the right place at the right time.”

Wonshik thinks about that, and he’s not surprised to find that Hakyeon is right.

“What happened? Would you tell me?”

The sad look is back again, and Hakyeon shakes his head.

“I don’t think I could. Not now at least.”

“It’s okay.” He replies, and then: “Who was this person who taught you? Is it someone I know? I can’t think of Jaehwan or Sanghyuk doing that.”

The joke makes Hakyeon laugh again, and Wonshik is glad.

“No no. It was an old friend. He was… peculiar. Just like you.” A pause, a second, and then: “He had come out of nowhere just like you, too. But he had arrived in spring instead of autumn.”

“What happened to him?” He asks, knowing the answer to the question might bring some sort of sorrow to Hakyeon. But something tells him he needs to.

However, Wonshik’s glad when he sees that Hakyeon is not bothered by the question, quite the contrary.

“Something beautiful, I suppose.”

Hakyeon gets up, urging Wonshik to do the same.

His legs cramp a little but he manages. Outside, he can see a few rays of sunshine already starting to appear.

“I didn’t come here to talk about this though.” Hakyeon says, “But it got way too late.”

“Are you going?” He asks, following Hakyeon to the door.

“Yes. Need to fix things, right?” He blinks, “But yeah, it will be Jaehwan’s birthday next week, we’re planning a surprise party.”

Wonshik walks beside Hakyeon through the main corridor, opening the front door so the both of them bask in the gold of the sunlight.

A golden, spring morning, it seems.

And Hakyeon glows, seemingly more alive than ever.

“We were wondering if we could do it here? The party? Nothing fancy, just the five of us, some drinks.”

“Of course.” Wonshik replies promptly.

Of course, of course. How could he deny them anything?

“Great! I will call you with more details. Remember it’s a surprise ok? And sleep, please. You look terrible.”

“Don’t say that.”

Hakyeon laughs, and it sounds beautiful and carefree.

“I say whatever I want, see you soon Shik!”

He smiles, watching Hakyeon’s truck go down the road.

He feels warm and happy. Too excited and too awake to go to sleep. And he knows he doesn’t look as terrible as Hakyeon made him think.

Not yet anyway.

He sits on the steps in front of the house and watches as the morning unfolds.

Mornings, after all, hold a certain strength, a certain _magic_.

And if Wonshik believes in anything, it surely is that.

☾

A couple of days later, Wonshik finds himself walking down the empty streets that lead to Hongbin’s bar.

The Lost Summer St.

Wonshik had never wondered about that name before, but now, with the heat of the sun and the little birds flying everywhere, he does wonder. Not the name per se, but what it implies. And not for the street either, or the many reasons the townspeople choose that, no. Wonshik wonders about his summer, and what he will lose if he decides to go away, to leave.

And, what will he lose if he stays?

He opens the bar’s door with ease, finding comfort in the bright illuminated room, in the many shelves filled with liquors, and in all the tables with the chairs turned.

And comfort in the man behind the counter as well.

He approaches slowly, watching as Hongbin is entertained by reading a small book, it’s only when he sits on the stool right in front of him that Hongbin closes the book, startled.

“Oh, so you came.” He hurriedly says.

Wonshik chuckles, his attention going from the surprised look on Hongbin’s face to the book placed on the counter.

It doesn’t seem like a book, by close inspection. The cover is made of black leather, and with no title whatsoever, he can see some pages detaching here and there, making the thing seem old and used. It actually looks like a notebook.

“What’s this?” He asks, poking at the cover and feeling his finger getting warm.

Hongbin quickly takes the notebook away, hiding it in someplace away from Wonshik’s sight.

“It’s just an old thing.”

“Is it yours?” He asks, leaning over the counter, close to Hongbin. He knows he shouldn’t be pushing the other like this, he knows he had come for very different reasons but.

But he’s curious. And all that surreal talk with Hakyeon the other day plus the feeling in his finger makes him want to know.

“No…” Hongbin says tentatively, pushing Wonshik away, making him stumble a little, “Stop prying.”

“Oh, sorry.” He replies, and he truly is.

Hongbin shakes his head, his brown locks covering his eyes, “It’s okay. Just…”

The silence, and the way the sunlight reaches Hongbin’s face make Wonshik worry. He comes closer again, but this time he touches Hongbin’s cheek.

“Hey, are you okay?”

A smile crosses Hongbin’s features, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He takes a step back, breaking the contact.

“I am. Will be.” He says, half to Wonshik and half to the shelves, “Spring just makes me melancholic, I guess.”

Wonshik nods, “Okay, just. I’m sorry, my curiosity got the best of me. You know you can talk to me, right? I mean, you listened to so many things about my life already, I would gladly help you out too.”

And that makes Hongbin genuinely smile.

“You’re a good man.” He says, shuffling and taking a single green bottle of the shelf. “I think I will be drinking with you today.”

He looks at the bottle and at the two glasses settled in front of him. So they will have traditional soju. Which is great, perfect even.

“You should sit beside me then. Like friends.”

“Of course.” Hongbin answers, and there are dimples on his cheeks, and he looks like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

And Wonshik, Wonshik is glad.

They sit side by side, with the sunlight shining upon them, alcohol being poured down the glasses, and talking about the plans for Jaehwan’s surprise party. They talk about balloons and cake flavors, and they talk about what kind of drinks they should bring, and about what kind of songs they should listen.

They talk, and the light haziness coming from drinking washes over them. It’s only when the sun is already setting, and some sort of comfortable silence splays over them that Hongbin gets up, walks around the counter and picks the notebook again, placing it in front of Wonshik.

“It’s a diary.”

Wonshik doesn’t touch it, in fact, he just stares at Hongbin with questioning eyes.

“It’s from an old friend of mine. I miss him, even more when spring comes around.”

“Oh.”

“I wanted to revive our memories together.”

Wonshik blinks, not knowing why Hongbin is only telling him this now, not knowing what to reply. But the words and the fresh memory of Hakyeon’s talk makes him ask what’s on his mind.

“Is this from the person who taught you magic?”

Hongbin’s face shifts, from bittersweet to surprised.

“Who told you that?”

“Hakyeon. He told me some things the other day.” And, by seeing the look on Hongbin’s face, he quickly adds: “It’s alright though, please, I’m not scared by it.”

“Goddess.” Hongbin sighs, “He can’t keep his mouth shut can he?”

“I guess not.” Wonshik says, chuckling and taking a sip of the soju that’s still on his glass.

“This person, the one who wrote this.” Hongbin points at the notebook, “He was a great man.”

Wonshik nods, “Hakyeon told me he’s in a good place now.”

A ghost of a smile, a quick rise of eyebrows.

“I guess he is.”

The silence, and the setting sun, together with the feeling of being quite drunk, make Wonshik get up.

He still has to drive all the way back to his house, after all.

“One day.” He says, placing a firm hand on Hongbin’s shoulder over the counter, he has to lean in, and it’s uncomfortable, but, “One day, will you tell me about this man?”

Hongbin looks at him with tired eyes, but not unkindly.

“Of course, Wonshik, of course. I think you deserve to hear about his story after all.”

He closes his eyes, setting back. “I should go, it’s getting dark and – ”

“Don’t worry.” Comes the quick reply, “I will be fine. I will see you soon, right? Don’t forget to go to Hyuk’s on Friday.”

He smiles in return, waving his hand in the air and walking away.

“See you soon.”

☾

The moonlight illuminates the whole garden, bringing with it shadows and a dream-like quality to his surroundings.

The moon is not quite full – _not yet not yet_ – but with the clearer skies, its light shines upon him.

He feels some kind of adoration then, tilting his head to watch the beautiful satellite up above. Adoration for her and for the forest and all the little sounds it makes on warm nights.

Adoration for the moment and –

The sound of footsteps behind him makes him stop, looking at the only possible person who could be there.

“She’s beautiful tonight.” He says quietly, as a way to start a conversation.

“Indeed, she is.”

Taekwoon wraps his arm around Wonshik, and it’s a lot more contact than what he’s used to. But it doesn’t feel uncomfortable, or wrong. Quite the contrary.

He leans in.

He can barely make out Taekwoon’s face, but he sees the silver of his hair and the small mole right below his eye. Those little things make him yearn for something but.

_Not yet not yet._

“Tomorrow.” He begins, trying to think of other things, “I will throw a party here, a surprise party for one of my friends. You should come.”

Taekwoon gets impossibly still by his side, dislodging his arms from Wonshik and taking a step back.

“Sorry I – ”

But Wonshik quickly closes the distance, being the one to wrap his arms around Taekwoon’s middle.

“It’s okay, I just thought it would be nice to invite you, after all, you’re my friend too.”

But that word, it doesn’t quite fit, not on Wonshik’s mind.

However, the moon is still not quite full so, not yet not yet.

Taekwoon whispers in his ear, his voice sending shivers down Wonshik’s spine.

“Thank you.”

And then, the silence that surrounds them is not real silence, because the forest and all the night creatures are alive.

Wonshik tilts his head, to look at the stars and at the moon, and he sees something passing by. It could be an owl, a bat, or even a shooting star. But it all doesn’t matter much in the end, because something is moving into the night, and so is Wonshik’s mind.

“Taek?” He says, slowly and lazy.

“Hm?”

He shifts, moving so he can face Taekwoon. He feels boldness and some sort of electric thrill running down his veins.

“What do you know about magic?”

Taekwoon doesn’t answer; instead, he blinks, slowly, assessing Wonshik, opening his mouth but letting no sound out.

That should be as good an answer as any.

But Wonshik, he’s not a fool, you know? Never was.

And he does need more.

“I’m just curious.” Wonshik adds.

The fresh-born leaves rustle with the wind, and this time Wonshik does hear the sound of an owl. He shivers, more because of the cold air than the moment. Because, even if Taekwoon, right in front of him, looks ethereal, inhuman, just like he did the very first time they met, he’s not afraid, not anymore, has not been for a very long time now.

Because Taekwoon is Taekwoon.

And that could mean nothing and everything.

“Why are you so interested in it now?” Taekwoon asks, softly, taking one step forward and coming closer to Wonshik, “What happened?”

“Nothing.” He smiles, “As I said, I’m curious.”

Taekwoon hums, “Magic is… magic is everything, Wonshik. I don’t know if I would call it ‘magic’ so much as it’s also life as well.”

“Oh.”

“I could…” Taekwoon says and then stops, opting to look up at the moon, “I could tell you many things about magic, I could show you if that’s what you desire, but.”

“But?”

“But I fear.” Taekwoon replies, turning his head away from Wonshik, away from the moon.

The wind blows up with more strength, and Wonshik suddenly feels cold, the kind of cold that comes from the dread of a sudden realization.

“Why?”

And then Taekwoon is grabbing his hand, holding it gently and pushing him away from the edge of the forest, guiding him to the back door and into the house.

Taekwoon’s hand is warm, and that warmness spreads through Wonshik, just like… magic.

It’s only when Taekwoon opens the door of the studio and let go of Wonshik’s hand that he feels as if reality is coming back.

He stares, at Taekwoon and the black eyes, wanting to ask, to say, to inquire.

But.

(there’s always a but and there’s always a _not yet not yet_ )

Taekwoon guides him onto the piano chair, sitting by his side.

“Play our song.”

It feels like a command, but also like a question.

Wonshik places his fingers on the keys, not knowing if he can play it like that, out of the blue, so he asks again: “Why?”

Taekwoon doesn’t answer him, only closing his eyes and moving his head so Wonshik can continue.

So, with no other option, Wonshik plays. At first, he presses just one single key, the tune that starts the whole piece. And then he goes for the other and the other until he’s playing the song, their song. It lacks the precision and softness of Taekwoon’s hands, but he manages.

It’s a whole other thing, to play like this, knowing Taekwoon is listening intently, knowing that he knows absolutely nothing of the whys of this.

But he manages; and he gets immersed on the highs and downs, the melody and what it entails.

Their song.

It’s a feeling, a shivering and a fear, love and caution, the cold drops of snow mixed together with the harshness of summer.

It’s everything and nothing and –

And when Wonshik finishes playing, a little bit out of breath, with his heart pounding on his chest because of all the feelings and emotions, he looks at Taekwoon.

And what he sees is everything he expects: a bright smile, eyes half-hidden in crescents, a faint blush.

“See,” Taekwoon says, seeming to be lost on his words, “That’s… that’s what I was talking about. You do magic, Wonshik, you do it every day with your songs.”

He doesn’t have an answer to that, and it feels a little bit out of place, to compare music to magic. But if Taekwoon is the one saying that, and if his ( _their_ ) song makes Taekwoon smile, then it’s all good.

However, one day, sooner than later, Wonshik will get his answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so we finally reached the middle of the story! 
> 
> are you enjoying so far?
> 
> come talk to me @ [twitter](https://twitter.com/tttarkus)


	13. Spring II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hellow friends! It's been a while, I'm very sorry for the lack of updates, me and Nini were very busy and all........
> 
> But we are back in schedule! 
> 
> Enjoy (*^▽^*)

The morning arrives too fast, and Wonshik finds himself alone, as usual.

Taekwoon never stays. Maybe for lack of invitation, maybe it happens for fear or shyness. But, despite knowing all that, Wonshik is still alone when mornings come.

However, on this morning in particular, as he washes and dresses for the day, a scary thought crosses his mind. What if… what if it isn’t real? What if Taekwoon… But no, he can’t go there, not at this hour and not ever. It could only lead to insane thoughts.

On top of that, today is a special day, a celebration day. Jaehwan’s surprise party. He absolutely can’t go all crazy.

And if that wasn’t reason enough, when he looks out the window, he sees a beautiful, sunny day welcoming him in. It’s still early spring, and there are only some small white flowers here and there, but the energy and the sun make all the difference.

When Wonshik finally gets the courage to come down and go into the kitchen, he finds himself in a mess: there are boxes of flowers and food scattered all over the counter, golden balloons floating everywhere, a single cake sitting on the table, looking as sad and alone as Wonshik felt minutes before. And, of course, there’s also Hakyeon and Hongbin there, talking to each other in rushed voices, with Hakyeon holding a big roll of red tape and Hongbin shaking his head firmly.

Wonshik doesn’t even blink at that, he just opts to make coffee and see what he can do to help later on.

It’s only when the coffee machine is already running that they take notice of him.

“Oh look, the sleeping beauty woke up!” Hongbin chirps, walking in Wonshik’s direction and grabbing Hakyeon with him.

He only raises his eyebrows as an answer.

“We were trying to decide on who would wake you up, you know.” Hakyeon says, a mocking tone underneath his smile.

But Wonshik doesn’t have time to answer, because soon the kitchen’s door is banged open, and a bright Jaehwan arrives with a tired Sanghyuk in tow.

“I tried to…” Sanghyuk exhales, “But you know how he is.”

Jaehwan laughs brightly.

“A surprise party! For me!” He swoons, “I love you guys so much.”

Hongbin scoffs, “Apparently not a surprise anymore.”

“It doesn’t matter!”

And suddenly, but maybe not so suddenly, Wonshik sees himself being dragged and ordered around, to set the table, set up the speakers outside, take the boxes up and down, with the others helping him in the process, or mostly, just Sanghyuk and Hongbin.

It’s all because Jaehwan proclaims himself king for the day, and Hakyeon, well, Hakyeon is Hakyeon.

It’s fun, and Wonshik had never seen so much food and bottles of wine appear from nowhere like that. He guesses it was magic.

And, apparently, his magical friends were very uninterested in using it to help out with preparing the party.

Maybe it was their intention all along, to use sweat and manual work.

However, Wonshik doesn’t mind, because soon they’re sitting in the garden, laughing freely and eating the delicious dishes that Hakyeon cooked himself; and Jaehwan sports the biggest smile and the cutest blush.

It’s the sun and the birds, together with the wine and spicy food, that makes Wonshik put one of his finished songs to play.

And it’s with a lot of caution that he takes a deep breath and studies his friends’ faces while they listen.

But it’s the wine and the sun, mostly, that makes everyone cheer on him and tell him how good it is.

Wonshik doesn’t mind, he never was the type to mind (only when alone in his room with the white ceiling and –)

Soon the music changes, to something more common, more normal. And the talk resumes.

Wonshik learns some things, with the wine and the sun.

He learns that, when drunk, Hakyeon talks even more, fighting with Jaehwan for the spotlight.

And he also learns that Hongbin is a mischievous man, which should have been expected, given the circumstances.

The moment Wonshik follows the other man to the kitchen, with the excuse of grabbing some more snacks, he sees Hongbin do something to Jaehwan’s glass, something with sparks and the color orange. He asks then, _what are you doing?_ , to which Hongbin only replies with one of his signature dimpled smiles.

This is how Wonshik learns that Hongbin’s magic is focused on potions.

“They’re mostly potions with good intent, though.” Hongbin sighs, watching as Jaehwan’s head falls to the side, eyes closed, blissfully asleep, still sitting prettily on the chair.

“I can’t believe you’ve drugged him.”

Hongbin blinks, “I didn’t _technically_ drug him.”

But there isn’t time for arguments when Hakyeon takes notice of the joke and intervenes, drawing a pentagram right on Jaehwan’s forehead with one of his signature white chalks.

Startled, Jaehwan wakes up again and the party continues.

It’s a mix of chaos and fondness, Wonshik muses.

A mix of laughter, bad jokes and lots of affection. A little bit of magic in between.

And maybe it’s the first time Wonshik finally feels like he’s at home.

Belonging.

It’s the sun and the wine – apparently – that makes Wonshik hug each one of them; that makes him hold hands and throw kisses.

It’s definitely the wine.

Probably, definitely.

☾

It’s in the afternoon, with the sun already setting slowly over the horizon, coloring the skies with the same color as the wine they’ve been drinking, that Wonshik decides to sit on the fresh green grass near the edge of the forest. He places his hands on the ground, feeling the ticklish sensation of the leaves.

He’s tipsy, yes, as are the others. Jaehwan is finally quiet, watching the sky with intent, his hair is filled with flower petals that fell from the trees, making him look like an angel, a fairy; Hongbin and Hakyeon are still drinking, laughing cheerfully by the table, touching each other’s hands and faces, almost like lovers. And Sanghyuk… Sanghyuk gets up from his spot near Jaehwan and walks towards Wonshik, sitting on the grass beside him.

Wonshik looks at him with a smile on his face, the boy seems so young... and yet.

A calm breeze passes through them, bringing scattered leaves, and Wonshik closes his eyes, feeling, always feeling.

Sanghyuk scoots closer, an indication that he’s either cold, drunk or wants to talk. Maybe it’s all three at once.

Wonshik opens his eyes again to stare at the boy-who’s-not-a-boy.

“I really like it up here.” Sanghyuk says, slow, dragging the words onto each other.

Wonshik can only hum in agreement.

“You should stay. Here, with us.”

That makes his heart ache.

“I can’t.” Wonshik answers, moving, so that his legs are touching Sanghyuk’s, “This house isn’t mine, and I’ve left lots of things in my city. I don’t know how to stay.”

Sanghyuk squints his eyes, moving his hands to the grass, his fingers playing with the tiny leaves mindlessly.

“You can’t, or you don’t want to?”

“I –”

He closes his mouth before answering because he genuinely doesn’t know which is it.

Silence settles in for a couple of minutes, with the sun going down and down and with the moon already making its appearance on the now purplish skies. The sight is beautiful, calm, like a renaissance painting. And that should make Wonshik think twice before saying that he can’t stay.

And it’s not only the nature, but it’s also everything that staying on top of this isolated mountain entails. The small city, the people, the forest and the hidden river. The stress-free reality, the flowers. The _love_.

“My birthday is in July.”

Comes the low voice of Sanghyuk, taking Wonshik out of his mind.

“I wish we could celebrate together.” Sanghyuk completes, smiling sadly.

Wonshik takes a deep breath, tilting his head so he can look at the first stars appearing on the sky.

“Well, I promise I will try, okay?”

Another breeze gently passes by them, and this time, Sanghyuk has flowers in his hands, a small bouquet of white daisies.

“Where did you get those?” He asks, more or less startled.

Sanghyuk chuckles, giving one to Wonshik and playing with the petals of the others.

“When I was younger my mom always promised to take me to see the ocean on my birthday. She would say, ‘ _you’re a summer’s child, so your place should be by the sea,_ ’ but we never went.”

Wonshik gets even more startled by the lack of response to his question, and by what Sanghyuk had just told him.

And look, Wonshik has a big soft heart, you know.

“We – we could go to the sea, everyone together. That would be a fun trip.”

Sanghyuk picks out some petals from the daisy he’s been holding, throwing them to the ground.

“It’s okay, even if we don’t go, it’s okay. I’m only telling you this because I’ve been wanting to talk to you.”

“…about?”

The sky turns a shade darker, bluer, and a crippling cold wind starts to blow from the forest, as per usual. But Wonshik doesn’t move, he doesn't dare to do so. It feels like one of those fragile moments, just like the white petals that Sanghyuk is taking out from his daisies. Too fragile.

“Family, and stuff.” Sanghyuk babbles, leaving the flowers on the ground and scooting his knees closer to his chest, leaning on Wonshik’s side, “You never told me with words, but I know that family isn’t an easy subject for you.”

“Oh.”

Sanghyuk leans even more, his bigger frame looking impossibly small.

“Sh. Just. Let me tell you.”

“Okay.”

With a sigh, he begins: “My mom was very sweet to me, as was my father. As an only child, it was expected, right? We were the perfect happy family. Mom and dad worked at the store, I helped them, dad was actually teaching me how to deal with the suppliers and where to store what. The store was very different back then, as was the city. You could say it was the glory days.” Sanghyuk chuckles without humor, “But then. Well. You surely know by now about our problem with the disappearances in the forest.”

Wonshik stays completely still, a feeling of dread enrapturing him.

“Yeah, I heard about it.”

“They disappeared.” Sanghyuk says calmly, too calm, “One day they were there, and on the other, they were just… gone. And I was left all alone with a business that I certainly didn’t know how to manage, with no family, nothing.”

“Hyuk…”

Wonshik side-eyes Sanghyuk, seeing how there are even more flowers at his feet, this time they’re wild pink roses. He doesn’t know what to make of _that_.

“And it was at that point that I met Hakyeon and Jaehwan. They were much younger but, you know, I’m way younger than them.” He shakes his head, “Hakyeon took care of me, helped me with the store and all. And Jaehwan too, he would sleep with me from time to time, would make those awful jokes of his and he truly made me smile. Later on came Hongbin and well. It’s not like they replaced my family in my heart, but they made another place for themselves. They are family, just like my past family was, too.”

Wonshik hums, a little too touched to speak.

“Family, you’re born with it, but you can also choose to make your own. And there’s not a single bad thing about it. No guilt, nothing. It’s just what it is.”

“Hm.”

Sanghyuk moves, picking all the flowers at his feet and gathering them in his hands, offering them to Wonshik.

“The choice, whatever choice, it’s all yours. But we would be glad to help you out any time.”

And Wonshik is too drunk for this, for all these feelings thundering in his heart, so he takes the flowers, looking at them and at Sanghyuk with awe and admiration. He has a point, a good one. But to make choices, to move his life the way he wants, it takes time.

Sanghyuk probably knows that, too.

“By the way,” He says, getting up and brushing some dirt and grass from his pants, “the flowers are made with magic.”

Wonshik just watches him leave, too dumbstruck.

The flowers in his hands start to wither, becoming grey and vanishing into dust. If that was a sign, an omen, he doesn’t know, he just tilts his head back to the forest, watching it get enraptured by the darkness.

☾

They stay the night at Wonshik’s house, finding rooms for themselves. Whether they had proper beds or not, no one really complained. Only Hongbin gave Wonshik a deep shake of his head and a talk about how he should do his job of taking care of the property more often rather than staying inside the studio.

Oh well.

It’s not like Wonshik can argue with that, he _does_ know he’s doing a poor job of cleaning the house and taking care of it. But he doesn’t have the mind to care. If he’s going to leave everything behind… if those months will be just like a dream in his memories then. Then he’s going to make the most of it.

And it’s with some sort of resignation that he takes the steps towards his bedroom. Already feeling the headache that will undoubtedly come with the wine, still feeling quite surprised by everything that happened during the day.

And Sanghyuk’s talk, and the dying flowers.

When he finally lays in bed, with the lights already turned off, he can only feel emptiness.

The emptiness of not knowing which way to go, and the emptiness of something missing. The something that he knows all too well. Beyond his art and his music, the something that makes his heart do some strange things inside his ribcage and that makes him _very_ confused.

Taekwoon didn’t appear, as it was expected. But would that mean he would never appear if the others were around? And, would that also indicate that this feeling, this emptiness, was an indication that he got too dependent on the other man?

But the wine and the day, together with the light of the almost full moon coming from the outside, make Wonshik close his eyes, hoping for dreams where everything is solved, hoping for answers and –

Maybe hoping for something else.

☾

Wonshik wakes up all alone again. It’s only him and the white ceiling. And all the songs coming from the birds outside.

When he finally gathers the courage to get out of bed, with a headache and the dryness that comes from the hangover, he finds a little note on the kitchen’s counter. A small happy note from the boys, thanking him, with lots of hearts and poorly drawn faces. It’s cute, and it really makes him crack a smile, but it’s not enough to make the emptiness go away.

However, there’s coffee ready for him and a gallon of water too, which could only mean Hakyeon thought kindly of him before he left. That makes him crack another smile.

He does try to work on something, walking through his studio and sitting on the chair with the purpose of finishing one of the tracks, but nothing comes to him.

It’s just one of those days, it seems, where the nothingness envelops him, and his brain refuses to work. It’s scary, that feeling of emptiness, and he knows it comes from many untouched parts of himself.

And he feels fragile, with too many holes in his soul to patch up.

He also feels restless, and maybe that’s why he decides to just go to the couch and lay there as long as his back doesn’t start to hurt.

It’s him and the white ceiling.

And the birds.

Until he fishes his cellphone from out of his pocket and makes a decision. A call.

The line rings, endlessly, and he almost gives up until:

“Wonshik?”

It’s a familiar, soothing voice, and he gets up with it, standing in the room, gripping the phone close to his ear.

“Hi mom.”

He’s trembling a little, and he doesn’t know if it’s by the lack of food, the hangover or anxiety.

“Oh dear! How are you? I never thought you would call me.”

He chuckles, “I’m fine mom, how are you? How are things? Are you alright?”

“Of course I am, what about you? We should meet sometime soon for coffee, oh but your cousin is getting married next week, are you going? We can meet there.”

Wonshik frowns, “I – I didn’t know about that.”

“Didn’t you receive the invitation?”

He facepalms himself mentally, of course he didn’t. He didn’t even tell people he was moving from his old apartment.

“I moved.” He says, already knowing the route the conversation will take from now on.

“You what?” She says, “When? Why didn’t you tell me? I sent you flowers on your birthday… what a waste.”

“Hm, it was a rushed thing. Thank you though, I appreciate.”

A deep silence, and then: “Where are you now?”

“It’s somewhere isolated… I needed some time.”

More silence and Wonshik can almost physically feel the judging stare from the other side of the line.

“Time? Wonshik, you’re not a teenager anymore, you can’t simply run away from your responsibilities, what about your job? Weren’t you in a nice place?”

“Uh.”

“Don’t tell me you’re still trying to reach that childish dream.”

And that hurts more than it should.

But.

“Yeah,” He says, firmly. “I am, mom. I’ve been working on my music now. It’s what I love to do.”

He hears her taking a deep breath, probably controlling her nerves.

A disgrace to the family, that’s what Wonshik always was.

“Well,” She finally replies, taking another second to continue. “I can’t do anything about it, can I, Wonshik? I don’t approve, but I can’t say you shouldn’t, after all, it’s your life and you’re old enough to take responsibility for your actions.”

This time, it’s him that takes a deep breath, mostly out of relief.

“Yeah, thank you.”

“And Wonshik?”

“Yes?”

“It’s not because I don’t approve of your lifestyle that I don’t love you, okay?” She says, more softly, kinder.

“Mom…”

If unshed tears are trying to drop out of his eyes, no one needs to know.

“And please, tell me next time you decide to move, the right address at least.”

“Of course I – I will send the location by message.”

“You do that, and when you come to the city, let’s have that coffee, okay?

“Yeah, yes, sounds wonderful.”

“Right, I will see you soon, please take care.”

And she says that as if Wonshik hadn’t crushed her dreams of a perfect son just minutes ago, and his heart swells with guilt and happiness.

“Okay, you too mom.”

The line gets silent, and he’s greeted with the white ceiling again; with hot tears coming down from his eyes.

☾

It takes five days for Taekwoon to appear.

Five days during which Wonshik buries himself in work, completing three whole tracks in record time.

It takes five days, and Wonshik may or may not be a little hurt, given his worries, and then the sudden realization that it was impossible to reach out for Taekwoon.

Did that guy even own a cellphone?

But all in all, it didn’t matter much, since the man _did_ appear.

In all his whiteness glory and shy smiles.

Taekwoon comes out of nowhere – or better – right out of the woods, in the middle of a morning when Wonshik was tending to the garden. In all honesty, ‘ _tending to the garden_ ’ is a little bit of an exaggeration for what he’s doing, which consists of mostly laying on the grass and stare intently at the clouds.

What he sees first are the blue flowers, all bundled up in a small bouquet. Then he sees the pale hands.

And that’s how he knows it’s Taekwoon.

He thinks of getting angry, of asking where the fuck he was, of lashing out all of his frustrations at the other man.

But there are blue flowers, and who’s Wonshik, really, to do this type of things?

Wonshik is Wonshik, and that says a lot.

“Hello, stranger.” He says, mostly to the skies.

Taekwoon sits right beside him, “Hi.”

The little bundle of flowers covers half of his face, but Wonshik sees the small smile, the little beauty spot right under Taekwoon’s eye.

“Are those for me?”

“They’re forget-me-nots.”

It’s not the answer Wonshik wants, but it’s an answer, nonetheless.

“Thank you.” He says, picking the bouquet on his hands.

The flowers are small, fragile and beautiful; pure and wild all the same.

“I grow them in my garden.” Taekwoon says out of nowhere, scooting a little bit closer.

“Oh?”

He still gazes at the flowers, but now his attention is caught by the fidgeting of Taekwoon’s hands on the grass.

“I thought you would like them.”

“They’re gorgeous.” Wonshik states, leaving the flowers on the ground and opting to look at Taekwoon instead.

In the end, he’s not only talking about the flowers, is he?

And Taekwoon blushes under the sun’s light, beautiful and wild.

He thinks on asking about where he was, what took him so long to appear. But. But flowers are laying on the grass beside him, and black eyes are staring only at him.

And it’s not Wonshik’s place to demand anything.

So, he just cherishes what he’s been given.

The sun, the heat, the forget-me-nots and Taekwoon.

☾

The epiphany only happens on an unusually cold day of mid-spring. Too cold, too foggy, too weird for Wonshik’s liking. But it happens.

There’s a thin rain pouring outside, the kind of rain that makes everything seem wet and grey, the kind of rain that, even if not outside, you can feel it in your bones. And that’s how Wonshik feels when he steps into the kitchen and just… stands there. Looking at the fridge and at the counter, looking at the small brown vase holding the blue flowers Taekwoon gave him.

Forget-me-nots.

Wonshik thought long and hard about looking up their meaning on the internet. But then, after some consideration, he reached the conclusion that Taekwoon wouldn’t give him flowers because of their meaning.

Flowers are just flowers, after all.

Pretty to look at, but without the ground and the mud, they lose their lives.

And yet, they still sit prettily in the vase.

Wonshik walks to the counter, extending his hand and holding one single petal in his hand, feeling the smoothness of it.

Still, nothing comes to his mind.

It’s in this void of mind and rain that he catches a sound, a door opening, footsteps.

For a second, he holds his breath; for a second, he thinks of not dealing with whoever is here at his house.

But the flowers, and the rain.

Wonshik turns to greet his visitor.

And who he sees is not the one who he thought it would be.

But his heart beats faster all the same.

“Jaehwan.”

“Hello, friend.” Jaehwan says, sporting a big smile, looking young and fresh. Maybe it’s the civilian clothes he’s wearing, blue jeans and a pastel yellow sweater, maybe it’s the tone of his voice. Or, perhaps it’s just how Jaehwan is.

Nonetheless, Wonshik walks in his direction and gives him a hug. He thinks it’s appropriate. They’re friends, right?

“I brought you cake,” Jaehwan continues, giggling through the hug, “I was hoping you could provide the coffee.”

Wonshik smiles and gets to the task. It feels natural, boiling the water, measuring the ground coffee, while Jaehwan chats incessantly about the fresh news of the city. Jaehwan babbles about an old lady who lost her car in a parking lot, and about a man who needed help with opening his store.

“… and then I asked him ‘ _why didn’t you call a locksmith?_ ’ and oh Wonshik, that man had the audacity to say he didn’t need to pay me for the job, can you believe it?”

Wonshik just chuckles, pouring the freshly-made coffee in two mugs and handing one to Jaehwan.

The cake, it seems, was Jaehwan’s payment.

“I don’t know if it’s good.”

Wonshik picks two small plates and cuts the cake, it’s a simple thing, probably just vanilla, or something. He doesn’t care.

Jaehwan is easy, and Wonshik feels glad that it was him that came through the kitchen’s door, and not…

He’s about to take a bite of the cake when Jaehwan interrupts him.

“Oh! Where did you find this?”

He looks and sees Jaehwan pointing at the flowers, Taekwoon’s flowers.

Of course.

But how to answer the question?

“Ah… a friend gave them to me.”

Jaehwan’s eyebrows shot up.

“A friend?”

“Yeah.”

He puts the cake in his mouth, not wanting to talk about it.

It tastes dry and overly sweet.

“Are you troubled?”

But of course Jaehwan would pick up his lies. Not that it was a lie. But.

“No.”

“Is it the flowers?”

“No.”

Another bite of the cake and Jaehwan is looming over the table, trying to get close to Wonshik.

“You _are_ troubled.”

“I – ”

But everything Jaehwan says is true, isn’t it?

He sighs, “Maybe.”

Jaehwan grins.

“Well, good thing I came here, my dear Wonshikkie.”

“What are you gonna do?” He asks, picking the coffee mug and taking a sip.

It tastes bitter and it burns his tongue.

“Me?” Jaehwan asks, a look of mischief in his eyes, “I’m not doing anything. This time, it’s all on you.”

He shakes his head, too tired for cryptic conversations. He opts to look out the window, watching as the thin rain still falls merciless, the fog taking all the view from the forest.

“You do remember my tarot cards, right Wonshikkie?”

He looks at the other man again. How could he ever forget?

“Well, yeah.”

The three of swords and sorrow; the star and hope.

“And you do know that magic is a real thing in the world, right?”

Wonshik blinks and nods, burying his face in the mug, cherishing the heat from the steam and smelling the rich scent.

“Well!” Jaehwan claps, bringing Wonshik’s attention back, “Look how lucky you are! To have a diviner just across from you, ready to help you out with the mundane matters of the heart!”

And Jaehwan is too cheerful, too bright. And also, too easy. Wonshik catches himself smiling.

“A diviner?”

Jaehwan clicks his tongue, “A seer, someone who can grasp the future and past. You probably know that.”

“So you’re telling me you’re going to read my future?”

“As if! Futures are impossible to read, divination is only a tool to help people walk through life. It shows the deepest parts of the soul.” He says, touching his chin, “Although I _can_ see some glimpses of it when scrying.”

“…what?” Wonshik asks, but he knows it’s pointless. He had learned by now that the fewer questions, the better.

“Anyways!” Jaehwan bangs his hands on the table, “Let’s get to it!”

He shuffles in his pockets until he – almost magically, but it probably _was_ magic – takes out a small but thick blue box.

Wonshik looks at it, unimpressed.

But Jaehwan only chuckles, opening it and oh, Wonshik knows what lays inside. With careful hands, Jaehwan picks the deck of cards and starts to shuffle mindlessly. It’s only when they’re bundled up together like this that Wonshik can see how they shine brightly. It looks beautiful. Just like… magic.

He lets out a gasp, watching, mesmerized, as Jaehwan carefully shuffles the deck.

“Last time.” Jaehwan begins, eyes focused on the cards, “Last time I only gave you cards. In all honesty, I didn’t know if they were yours or mine, since I often do general readings, but they did seem right. Today we will be going with another route.”

Wonshik is still too dumbstruck by the way the cards are moving in front of his eyes to answer appropriately.

He just nods, but it seems enough for Jaehwan.

Jaehwan stops, cuts the deck in two and holds out the cards for Wonshik to take. For a moment, he stops, not deeming himself worthy of picking them, but Jaehwan insists, shaking them and pouting, so he complies.

“Shuffle them and think about what you wanna know.”

“Should – Should I tell you too?”

Because. Well. Because maybe what he wants to know is a little bit too personal, and even Wonshik himself doesn’t know much about it.

Because of life, and choices.

But Jaehwan smiles kindly at him: “That’s not necessary.”

He sighs in relief and looks at the cards, the weight of them heavy on his hands as he starts to shuffle, so he looks at the blue flowers, trying to find solace in something. The flowers say nothing to him, and yet.

He feels, and he sees the blue. Blue and grey and gold. The cards start to get hot on his hands, heavy and hot and burning.

Wonshik stops, placing the deck carefully on the table, a little bit startled by the sensation of burning still prickling on his hands.

Jaehwan only nods at him.

“What now?”

His answer comes with Jaehwan picking up the deck and spreading it on the table, creating a semi-circle around Wonshik.

“Now you pick one.”

He blinks, “Just one?”

“Oh dear.” Jaehwan sighs, “You need only one card to get your answer, I’m sure of it.”

He looks at the cards, still doubting a little.

But then again…

He moves his hands on top of the cards, not knowing how this is supposed to go.

“Should I?”

“Just pick one, it can be coincidence or fate, it doesn’t matter. Remember that it’s all in the intention, Wonshik.”

He retreats his hand, “Intention of what?”

Jaehwan just chuckles, “Intention of your heart, dearest. Come on, don’t look at me like that, this is not even spooky.”

And if it’s from the heart…

Wonshik looks at the flowers again.

He extends his hand, picking the first card his fingers lay on, carefully taking it out of the circle and turning it upside down.

What he sees makes him catch his breath, makes his heart beat faster, his hands start to tremble.

The image, of course, is dazzling, alluring, creepy and full of something that makes Wonshik stop everything to just look at it. Two naked men are facing each other, one the mirror of the other, but they’re in different poses, one stands a hand, and the other is in the process of taking it, both of them look happy, content. There’s also a big bright moon on top of the card, the rays of light blessing the two characters.

And, just below the card, Wonshik reads the name of it.

Oh.

_The Lovers_.

Wonshik feels a tear trying to slip out from his eyes, and so he blinks, looking at Jaehwan in question.

“Oh.” Jaehwan says, his usual bright face turning serious, “Oh Wonshik.”

“What – what does it mean?”

It takes a couple of seconds, a minute – maybe, for Jaehwan to finally look at Wonshik’s eyes.

“Although… you may think that this card is talking about romantic love, I don’t think this is it. Not in your case at least.”

Wonshik almost chuckles. Maybe it _has_ to do with love.

But maybe not.

He nods for Jaehwan to continue.

“The Lovers, it’s such a nice card isn’t it?” Jaehwan grins, “I absolutely love it! As you can see, the two people here, they’re naked, open to whatever is coming to them, and they want to touch one another, they want… they want to share their secrets, they want the honesty and intimacy.”

“… okay?”

“The thing is, Wonshik.” And now Jaehwan is back with his serious tone, serious gaze, “Whatever you asked, whatever you wanted to know, what I can tell you is that you need to be true to yourself. You need to be open and honest. You need to be clear about your values and beliefs, to face both your sides. The Lovers is all about opening up, communicating, feeling. And also about _choices_.”

Wonshik shivers.

“The Lovers.” Jaehwan says with some kind of finality, “And you, Wonshik. It’s time for you to choose who you want to be, what is truly in your core that you can’t let go of. Who are you Wonshik?”

And isn’t that the question of a lifetime?

Who’s Wonshik, really?

He blinks at Jaehwan. Lost on what to say.

Outside, the rain subdues, the sky starts to clear out slowly, a single ray of sunshine can be seen illuminating the garden. But Wonshik, poor Wonshik, he doesn’t see it, he only blinks and blinks.

Jaehwan takes the card, and with it all the other cards, placing them neatly inside the blue box.

“I don’t know if it helped but… that’s it, basically.”

“Well.” He manages to let out.

“I assume you have lots of thinking to do!” Jaehwan answers getting up, back to his usual cheerful self.

“Are you already leaving?”

And when Wonshik turns to look at the window, he sees the fog, the rain and a little bit of blue. The weather is clearing.

“Yeah yeah, I hope you enjoy the cake.” Jaehwan says, placing a hand on his shoulders, “And also, please, say ‘ _hi_ ’ to your friend.”

Wonshik is about to ask what friend he’s referring to when he sees Jaehwan walking towards the flowers and blowing them a little kiss.

He hears the fading of footsteps and the bang of a door being closed, and then Wonshik is alone again. Him and the blue flowers. _Forget-me-nots_.

He’s alone, but as Jaehwan had said, he has lots of thinking to do.

And who really is Wonshik?

With a sigh, he gets up and walks towards the back door, the one which leads to the garden. His hands hover on top of the doorknob before he makes his mind.

Wonshik may be a lot of things, he may also not be. But he opens the door and walks towards the rain and grass, welcoming them with his whole heart.

☾

When night comes, with its loneliness and the lack of a certain visitor, Wonshik closes his eyes.

And then he dreams.

Wonshik dreams of blackness and a deep fog in a forest that’s too big, the trees standing so tall it’s impossible to see the sky.

It’s the darkness again, but this time he knows where he’s going.

It’s easy to walk, to push his feet forward.

He sees a golden light at the end of the path, and that’s his destination.

There’s also a shadow he knows too well, and even then, he moves, step by step, onwards.

It’s easy because now he _knows_.

And when he reaches the golden lights, he sees it all arises from a crown of golden thorns, placed neatly on top of a simple rock.

Deep inside himself he knows he needs it, he should pick it.

However, it’s in the single moment of indecision, where he stops to assess the situation, that everything fades and the crown melts into darkness.

In the back of his mind, he hears a voice echoing “ _for love for love._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ━━☆⌒*. [twitter](https://twitter.com/tttarkus)
> 
> p.s. - i'm so so so tired pls someone gimme a hug;;; i'm this close to run away to some place far away just like baby wonshik in this fic lol


	14. Interlude: the pink of the flowers, the pink on your cheeks;

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy valentines!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
> 
> sending much love ♡

There’s a glint of surprise in Wonshik’s eyes when, in the morning, just right after he had his coffee, Taekwoon appears at the kitchen’s door, waving and sporting a shy smile.

Just like the sun, Taekwoon appears out of nowhere, looking as pretty as the flowers that bloom outside, dressed in a simple outfit. Jeans and a white shirt and. The smile. And the black eyes.

Wonshik is still a little dazed, by the sudden intrusion in his morning routine, so he doesn’t make a fuss, only looks at Taekwoon in questioning.

“It’s a beautiful day.” Taekwoon says, touching Wonshik’s arms, “I thought we could go for a little walk.”

Wonshik nods. He still has so much to do. He had planned on finishing one particular song that was turning out to be a nightmare, but Taekwoon and his pleading eyes sure did the trick to make him forget all of his responsibilities.

“And…” Taekwoon moves, showing Wonshik a little basket, “I brought some pink wine.”

Oh.

Well, that changes things.

He looks outside the window, at the bright sun and the little butterflies roaming the garden. Then, he looks at Taekwoon and at the withering blue flowers still on top of the counter.

“Sure.” He answers, “Just let me change.”

Taekwoon nods, still smiling, and Wonshik leaves to get ready.

He could never say no to pink wine, or pink lips.

☾

The path they take is one Wonshik knows all too well. They had been taking it since Wonshik was on his creativity slump and couldn’t see a way out. It’s the harsh, steep path to the river, Wonshik knows it, he can feel it, even if Taekwoon didn’t say anything.

However, even if Wonshik is sure they’re walking towards the river, the scenery is so wholly different from what he remembers. It’s probably the change of seasons, the mud and dirt, the humidity and naked branches giving place to vivid greens and yellows and to so much life. Wonshik can hear all kinds of birds singing, can listen to cicadas and crickets from a distance, and the forest, it smells like fresh and humid and alive. He thinks he sees two rabbits somewhere, but he isn’t quite sure.

It’s dazzling and beautiful, making Wonshik ponder if this isn’t the answer he was looking for.

But still.

_not yet not yet_

He looks at Taekwoon’s back, leading the way with ease, and he notices that, from time to time, Taekwoon stops for a mere second, just to talk with the green leaves, the buds-soon-to-be-flowers. It’s such an endearing sight, to hear Taekwoon’s soft voice being directed to the nature around them, Wonshik can’t help but let out a little sigh.

And it’s on the tip of his tongue, on the outskirts of his mind, the answer to his troubles and doubts.

To be true, and to love.

Taekwoon stops, turning to look at Wonshik as if sensing something wrong. He holds out his hand.

“What’s on your mind?” Taekwoon asks, in the same soft whisper he had been using to talk to the leaves.

A little bit of sunlight illuminates Taekwoon’s face, and at that moment he looks ethereal, unreachable. Wonshik takes his hand all the same.

“It’s nothing.”

“Yeah?”

Wonshik feels Taekwoon’s hand encircling his, and he feels a tiny squeeze.

He shakes his head, looking the other way, at the trees and at the butterflies.

“Please tell me.”

Another squeeze.

Wonshik runs his mind, trying to muster the courage to say anything. Because the subject is too personal, too uncertain. He watches as a small bumblebee fly in front of his eyes, so carefree.

And if it’s the truth Taekwoon wants... and if it’s _for love_...

Wonshik takes in a deep breath.

“I don’t know what to do.” He says, “With my life, with me. I know a lot of things but. How do we know which way will be best in the long run? How do we know if we are not just... being childish? Trying to reach an impossible dream? I don’t know. I don’t know which path to take.”

A minute of silence follows, and Wonshik keeps still, basking in the sensation of finally letting out his worries.

Taekwoon lets out a sound, a slow hum, as if in deep thought.

“You know that saying that there’s only one certainty in life?”

He attempts a glance at Taekwoon and at their linked hands.

And Taekwoon, he looks at Wonshik with stars in his eyes, so he decides to listen to whatever the other man has to say. God, he would listen to Taekwoon speak about anything, even if it would lead him to the gates of hell.

“They say that there’s only one certainty in life, and it’s that you’re going to die someday. It’s not wrong, but I like to think of another version, one more hopeful, I suppose.”

Wonshik blinks, nodding.

“In this version,” Taekwoon continues, “there are only two certainties in life, you have death, plain and simple and always there, and you also have another one. The certainty that the sun will rise again when the next morning comes. It doesn't matter what happened today, or yesterday, or years ago. What matters is that tomorrow you will be blessed with another day, another chance, another ray of sunshine, another laugh, and another cry. Isn’t that a precious thing?”

“Oh.”

Wonshik blinks again, taking one tiny step forward to come closer to Taekwoon.

They’re so close, with eyes locked within each other. It’s at that moment that Wonshik realizes how right Taekwoon’s words are.

“I – I don’t think I follow.”

Taekwoon chuckles, “You told me that you didn’t know which path to take, which way to go. That’s my answer, Wonshik.” He says, starting to comb Wonshik’s hair with his fingers, “You could never know, it’s impossible to know. You can only be certain about death and the sun. And that’s it. The rest is just a guess.”

Wonshik closes his eyes.

Death and the sun.

He turns to keep walking, struggling a little.

“Let’s go Taek, the wine will get warm.”

He hears a chuckle and footsteps following him, and that’s enough, isn’t it?

☾

Everything is colorful and alive when they reach their special place, there’s the light buzz of bees around and the stream of the river flowing endlessly to the heart of the forest. The flowers, all of them, are blooming beautifully everywhere Wonshik can look at. There are thousands of shades of yellows, pinks, and oranges.

There is so much life and so much light, Wonshik wonders if that’s what someone could call the true state of _happiness_.

And there’s Taekwoon, too, settling down near the river, opening the bottle of wine and urging Wonshik to come along.

There is too much grass and bugs, but Wonshik sits next to him all the same, taking a big sip right from the bottle. Taekwoon chuckles and pushes him lightly.

They stay like that for quite some time, drinking and talking about nothing, about the plans for spring, and about the many kinds of flowers and animals that pass through Wonshik’s view.

It’s after half a bottle that Wonshik contemplates the idea of swimming, but Taekwoon is looking at him with smiley-eyes and pink cheeks, and he quickly brushes the idea off.

_It’s because of the wine_ , he says to himself, when he picks up a wild pink flower right from the ground and gives it to Taekwoon, who blushes lightly.

_It’s because of the heat_ , he says to both of them when he suggests they lean on a tree trunk nearby to maybe take a quick nap.

And maybe, _it’s because of love_ , that Wonshik keeps himself awake, watching as Taekwoon dozes off, leaning on Wonshik’s shoulder, his mouth a little bit open, his face softer than ever.

It’s a little bit too much, the feeling rising on his heart. Wonshik feels like bursting, like crying and laughing at the same time. And he doesn’t understand where it’s coming from and where it’s going.

He fears then, as he watches the pink and yellow petals fall to the ground, that this feeling will also fall, vanish into the harsh heat of summer and into the coldness of winter.

He fears, but he also feels.

And isn’t that all he needs?

This could all be a dream, a beautiful, nightmarish dream, and even then, Wonshik would be glad, feeling the steady heartbeat of Taekwoon, as a personal calling, a voice, a song, making him ache and want oh so much.

Taekwoon stirs by his side, making Wonshik focus on the here and now.

Taekwoon, so odd and so unique, Taekwoon, with his black eyes and pink lips.

Wonshik doesn’t know what kind of feeling is this, but he’s glad all the same.

And if he ever had the chance to make this moment last forever, he wouldn’t take it; he could never do it, because more important than the single moment of truth, is the wholeness of it, the big and the small, the ups and downs.

Wonshik wants to take everything, and, with that in mind, he finally feels like he can ease his anxiety and doubts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short & sweet, just what we all need today, right?
> 
> ♡
> 
> @ [twitter](https://twitter.com/tttarkus)


	15. (for love for love)

May arrives with gold and yellow all around. The heat of the sun, still not as harsh as it could be, makes Wonshik enjoy every second of it. But he knows he’s running out of time, a decision needs to be made, soon.

Because the dreams keep coming.

Wonshik dreams of a black forest that should be scary, but it’s not; and Wonshik dreams of a golden crown made of thorns, made just for him. But he never takes it, never wears it, and the darkness envelops him and makes him listen to the same two words again and again.

_for love for love_

And then, when he wakes up, feeling dizzy and out of place, staring at the white ceiling, he remembers The Lovers card and the two men facing each other. He remembers Jaehwan’s words about honesty and courage.

Even then, he still has doubts.

All his life Wonshik lived doing all the things he had wanted – yes. But they were never his priorities, he never had to make a big decision because what he had to do was always splattered on his face: work in a nice company, earn money, get a girlfriend, marry, have children, go to social gatherings and family dinners.

However… now he can actively make a choice, and that leaves him terrified and unable to move.

But, at the same time… Not quite.

☾

Wonshik takes his sweet time to appreciate the flowers that bloom everywhere, the shade and shape of each of them; and he takes his sweet time to appreciate every inch of Taekwoon’s face, too.

Taekwoon, just like the flowers in spring, blooms right in front of Wonshik’s sight. He talks and he laughs and he touches, shamelessly.

And isn’t that reason enough to stay?

Maybe, maybe.

And he feels that the decision is arriving, the _not yet_ suddenly becoming something more, something akin to _right now_.

He never acts on his impulses, though. He never leans in when Taekwoon is close, never holds tight. It’s some sort of fear, to scare the other man away, or, maybe, to scare himself. In his mind, he plays all the different outcomes that could happen if he just… did something. But he knows – oh, he knows – there’s a talk the both of them need to have before everything happens.

And of course, he needs courage.

But the answer is right there, just like the crown of his dreams.

He only needs a little push, a little reminder of who he truly is, really.

☾

It’s on a full moon’s day that Wonshik finally gets his answers, or, at least one of them.

In hindsight, he should have expected that. The silver lights illuminating the trees in the garden, the fireflies roaming around, the sound of crickets and the comfortable warmth of a spring night.

All of this, together with the same company as before.

It was to be expected.

And the holding hands, and the low chuckles and the leaning on shoulders.

Everything seems like an indication of where to go, so, when Wonshik tilts his head to stare at the moon, long and hard, he feels it.

The energy, the magic, and the hope.

Because… if it’s for _love_ … and, if it’s for _himself_.

He takes a deep breath.

But Taekwoon, always ahead, always sweet Taekwoon, touches Wonshik’s cheeks.

And then he whispers something oh so soft into Wonshik’s ear, something that doesn’t seem like a word or a sentence, it seems more like a feeling, a spell.

Magic.

Wonshik understands. Simple as breathing and blinking, Wonshik understands everything, and with that, he looks at Taekwoon in awe.

Taekwoon smiles back at him, and with grace, gets up from the chair he was sitting on and holds out a hand for Wonshik to take.

Naturally, he complies, with an open heart and an open smile.

Taekwoon, with all his silvery appearance, guides Wonshik through the garden until they reach the border of the forest. There he can see the darkness spreading by what seems forever, just like in his dreams, just like in his nightmares. However, right by his side, he sees a light. A lone firefly.

He takes Taekwoon’s other hand and looks at him, into his eyes.

“I want to stay.” He finally speaks, voice wavering a little, “I want to stay, with you. But I’m afraid and – and I don’t know exactly who I am and if this is right or wrong and if you even want this and –”

“Wonshik.” Taekwoon replies, steady but kind, “Wonshik, you don’t have to know exactly who you are.” A blink, a small smile, and then: “I’ve been trying to show you this for months now, and I know it’s been hard, but. But being devoted to what you love, to what is yours, truly yours, that’s what matters in this world. In the end, we’re all alone, you know that, I know that.”

Taekwoon pauses, looking at Wonshik with eyes so loving, so brilliant. The blackness of it enraptures Wonshik’s whole soul.

“But the courage, and the devotion to be true to yourself. I think that’s all that matters. If you want to stay… just do. It’s _your_ life.”

Wonshik takes one step closer, his nose almost brushing with Taekwoon’s. He feels his heart beating fast, his emotions spinning with the words he just heard.

It’s all too much, with time never stopping to give him a moment to think, to assess.

But the devotion, and his soul.

And Taekwoon.

It’s not enough to quiet his spirit, it could never be.

And the full moon, so bright in the sky, blessing the whole exchange.

He closes the distance, brushing his lips on Taekwoon’s, tentative and awkward.

It’s soft and small, a mere touch.

However, there’s intent in that move.

And devotion.

And Taekwoon.

“I want to stay.” Wonshik says, “With you.”

It’s as much a truth as his uncertain kiss.

Taekwoon answers by cupping Wonshik’s face, making him stare at his black eyes.

All the blackness and all the emotions he sees there, it seems like what he had been looking for this whole time, so he closes the distance again. This time more sure of what he’s doing.

The kiss is still chaste, soft. But, just like their relationship, it brings flutters and shivers down Wonshik’s whole body. Taekwoon answers with a little sigh.

When they part, there’s a fire in Taekwoon’s eyes, and gentleness, and more obscure things. It’s all Wonshik ever wanted because that’s the only truth he knows.

And the devotion.

“You can stay then.” Taekwoon whispers, leaning in again for another kiss.

☾

_for love for love_

Wonshik hears it as Taekwoon kisses his neck, his chest.

_for love for love_

He whispers as he holds Taekwoon, not so gentle, but with passion and intention.

And it’s for love, always for it, when their kisses become something more, something heated and urgent.

It feels like a ritual, like making magic, that kind of love.

And he was never one to get touched by this sort of things, but it’s impossible to not feel blessed and whole when Taekwoon speaks in his soft voice and gives him a forehead kiss, closing his eyes to sleep.

It’s impossible, but it happens, while outside the full moon burns brightly in silver and white, just like Taekwoon.

That night, Taekwoon stays, and Wonshik dreams.

Wonshik dreams of a bed made of flowers and a golden crown made only for him, fitting perfectly on his head; and Wonshik dreams of sweet, passionate kisses, and hands touching his body, but it’s all warm and pleasant.

He dreams, and in his dreams he finally _knows_.

☾

It’s in the little whispers being told that the whole image of Taekwoon unfolds in front of him; it’s in the soft, sometimes rough touches, and in the jokes and laughs directed only to him, that Wonshik understands some things.

And he’s glad and honored, to be a part of it.

It’s in the secrecy of nights kept awake that Taekwoon talks to him, teaches him about magic. About the intention and about the _power_.

It’s also on those endless days spent together that they finish what Wonshik had set his heart upon. His songs, his album.

All finished by the end of May, crafted and created with so much care and joy and love, he almost burst into tears when he finally puts it to play in his studio.

Taekwoon holds him tightly and tells him he did a fantastic job, a perfect job.

_But what now?_

He asks, to no one in particular. But Taekwoon grins at him and answers with a kiss and a soft smile.

“Now you start creating again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oopsie look at them!
> 
> i love love
> 
> ━━☆⌒*. [twitter](https://twitter.com/tttarkus)


	16. Spring III

Of all the moments of the day Wonshik enjoys, evenings were probably some of his favorites. Something about the darkness and quiet, how it gave room to create, to listen, to _love_.

And now that Taekwoon – sweet, sweet Taekwoon – is in his life, evenings are even more… enjoyable.

There are kisses and playing and there’s getting to know each other even more.

It’s on one of those evenings spent together that Wonshik finds himself stepping into the kitchen and seeing his lover humming a song right by the stove, definitely cooking something for both of them.

It’s impossible not to crack a smile and walk closer and closer, until he’s back hugging the other man and peppering his exposed neck with kisses. Taekwoon giggles in surprise, and turns around, meets Wonshik halfway, kissing again and smiling.

The moment feels soft, intimate and domestic, until Taekwoon opens his mouth, inviting Wonshik in and then… things get heated – as they usually would, now that both of them discovered the magic of passion. And it’s not the best place for it, not so near the stove and fire.

But Taekwoon is Taekwoon, and Wonshik, well. Wonshik is Wonshik, and he just can’t deny Taekwoon anything, can he?

So they kiss until there’s smoke and a burnt finger and even more giggles from Taekwoon.

And then there’s more kisses and _healing_. The magic filling all the empty spaces in the room, filling Wonshik’s whole soul, making him tremble and sigh.

“We should…”

“Yes, we should eat first, love later,” Taekwoon replies, softly, with one last peck on Wonshik’s forehead.

Of course Wonshik _loves_ evenings.

☾

However, beyond the joy and _love_ that Taekwoon brings into his life, he also brings clarity.

It’s in the simple, small talks – during evenings and lazy mornings and every moment in between – that a plan starts to take shape in Wonshik’s mind.

“If you’re staying here you need a place to _stay_ ,” Taekwoon says one day, carefully, biting Wonshik’s shoulder.

The only answer he can muster is a low hum and a little slap.

But Taekwoon is right, as he often is.

And then, it comes: “If you’re staying, you need to think about where you will put all of your stuff.”

That’s another question, and time is definitely not in his favor, so Wonshik asks without using his words for Taekwoon’s help with that matter.

On that day they start packing all the useless stuff.

Then, another day passes and Taekwoon, with lips red from the wine, whispers “If you’re staying you should stay with _me_.”

But that’s not what Wonshik wants at the moment. Even if he loves ( _loves so much_ ) Taekwoon, it’s too soon, too sudden.

He declines with a frown and a kiss.

But Taekwoon is right.

Wonshik needs a plan.

☾

Wonshik is set on his thoughts when he enters Hongbin’s bar with wide strides, opening the door with his heart beating fast.

It’s not his only hope, but he trusts his friend. Trusts Hongbin to help him out in this… difficult situation.

He places both hands on top of the counter, taking a deep breath before opening his mouth and:

“Please hire me!”

Hongbin only gives Wonshik a side stare, continuing to keep cleaning the already spotless counter.

“Bean, please!”

Hongbin raises one eyebrow, “You’re pouting. Why are you pouting? Stop that.”

Wonshik tries to pout some more because really, this is not easy for him. Until Hongbin throws the cloth he’s been using to clean the counter right on Wonshik’s face.

“Hey! Why such aggression?”

He places the cloth on top of the counter as he sees Hongbin squinting at him.

“Why are you asking for jobs?”

He moves from side to side on the seat, anxious.

“I decided I want to stay here, in this city, with… you know, you guys. It’s been really good for me and – ”

Hongbin places one finger on top of Wonsik’s lips, his face a mix of surprised and glad.

“Right, right. That’s… good. Perfect.”

He tries to smile even though the finger is still there, he thinks on licking it, or on making a joke. But it’s Hongbin and look, he doesn’t know what the other can do back.

“Yeah?” He says, after Hongbin’s finger is free from his face, “So will you give me a job? A place to stay?”

Hongbin chuckles, “Aren’t you bold? With your big buffy arms, why don’t you go ask a job from Jaehwan, I’m sure you would be useful.”

He pouts more, enjoying how Hongbin makes a face of disgust at that.

“Bean, he’s a _police officer_ , I’m sure you need like, years of training to, you know, work with him. Plus I’m a big softy, I simply can’t do that.”

“That’s true.” Hongbin says, turning his back and looking at the bottles of liquor on the shelves, grabbing one that looks suspiciously green, “What about Sanghyuk? And Hakyeon? They both need a pair of arms like yours.”

Wonshik rests his face on the counter, feeling the cold wood, smelling the strong smell of disinfectant.

“Hyuk’s store gives me the creeps, and honestly, I still don’t know what Hakyeon’s job truly is. I’m scared Bin, please.”

He hears Hongbin mixing drinks, working with glasses and utensils, so he perks up to look.

“Well,” Hongbin starts, “you do have a point.”

A bright orange liquid is poured down a martini glass, and is promptly shoved in front of his face.

The thing looks dangerous, to say the last. Dangerous and probably very strong. By close inspection Wonshik sees a little mist coming out of it, and he backs away.

“What is this?”

“Drink it.” Hongbin deadpans.

“No.”

Hongbin pushes the glass close to Wonshik’s face.

“Go on, just a little bit.”

“Why.”

“Don’t you want the job?” He answers, leaning on the other side of the counter.

“Do I need to drink this poison thingy for that?”

Hongbin chuckles, “It’s not poison, I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Wonshik straightens himself, inspecting Hongbin’s face.

“So, what is it?”

Hongbin blinks, once, twice, his smile wavering a little until: “It’s a potion.”

And that’s the cherry on top of Wonshik’s life, isn’t it? It’s good that he’s feeling the greatest, so he just nods and goes with the flow.

“Okay, nice, potions are better than poison. But then, a potion for what?”

Hongbin avoids his eyes, looking at the floor instead. And suddenly, he seems young, shy.

“It’s just.” He tries, “It’s just to make sure of your intentions.”

“Huh?”

Wonshik’s lost, completely lost on this conversation.

“It’s not like I don’t believe in you, far from that, but I want to make sure you will actually stay.”

Wonshik’s feet touch the ground and he gets up, trying to take one of Hongbin’s hand on his own.

“What do you mean? Of course I’m staying. There are… many things that hold me here.”

“Yeah?” Hongbin looks… sad, “So drink that, please. I promise it won’t be bad for you. Plus, it’s non-alcoholic.”

“Great.”

With a sigh, he takes the glass in his hands, inspecting it before downing the whole thing in one go.

Wonshik could never say no anyway.

And, it’s with that thought in mind that he blacks out completely.

There’s a hum, first. And then, it’s a full song being sung, going through his mind and being played perfectly. The voice is foreign and familiar at the same time, but he can’t quite pinpoint the owner, he tries to remember what happened, but everything is blank. There’s only the soft tune and slight pain in his neck. He shuffles, feeling trapped and uncomfortable.

The song stops. Together with the person, and he hears a door being opened, rushed whispers.

He picks up only half of what the voices are saying, still too dazed to understand or to open his eyes.

“Did you drug him? – ”

“… no....He asked...what was I supposed to do?”

“...it has come to this.”

“...What are...Hakyeon? Summer...and – ”

“...nothing.”

“...need someone! …a sacrifice!”

“Shh. You’re gonna wake him.”

“I don’t want to do this to him...”

“The goddess...decide...intention and love.”

He stirs some more, trying to open his eyes, some kind of urgent feeling making him feel restless. The conversation doesn’t sound right at all.

He hears footsteps approaching, and he senses someone touching his forehead.

“Oh. Do you think he heard us?”

A low sigh, “Maybe.”

There’s a finger touching his forehead, and then, suddenly, Wonshik feels like he’s being drowned in darkness again.

☾

Wonshik wakes up with his head hitting a cold and hard surface. It takes a couple of seconds for him to finally be aware of his surroundings and what is happening.

He turns his head side to side, feeling the pain and looking at the window.

He’s in the backseat of Hakyeon’s truck, that much is obvious – if the constant shake and bump of the car is any indication of it, plus the obnoxious pop song playing.

He shifts some more, watching the muddy road from the window.

So, they’re taking him back to his house.

Well.

The truck passes another rut and Wonshik’s head hits the window again, letting out a soft ‘ouch.’

That’s the moment he sees Hongbin’s face peeking out from the passenger seat.

“Hey.”

He looks sad, guilty. Expressions that don’t suit his face. Wonshik frowns.

“What happened?”

He sees Hakyeon waving his hands, “Apparently our sweet Bin here gave you something stronger than what he should have, and then you passed out.”

Wonshik blinks, trying to scan his memory, to remember something. Everything is blank, save from the moment he entered the bar.

“Oh.”

“How do you feel?” Hongbin asks, his face still filled with something utterly wrong.

“I feel…” He tries but then stops, he doesn’t feel great, but it’s not like he had never felt like this before, “I feel like I’m fighting a bad hangover, honestly.”

Hongbin sighs in relief, moving to face the front of the car again.

Hakyeon lowers the volume of the song, “Are you sure?”

Another hole, another shake of the truck and Wonshik just wants to… he looks at the window again, and he wants to run, wants to run to the forest and just stay there for a while. He doesn’t understand why so much worry.

Something in his mind tells him he should be the one being worried but.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure.”

A turn, another rut and then Wonshik’s house – not _his_ home, never was – appears in his line of sight. He can see by the scattered leaves and by how the trees shake that it’s a windy night, the sky filled with clouds. Starless, cold.

But.

There are lights coming from the house, and Wonshik can almost sense someone walking in there, touching piano keys, singing.

It quiets his mind a little.

Hakyeon turns off the engine, and both men look at Wonshik in the backseat.

“I’m so sorry.” Hongbin whispers, face looking down. Guilty, so guilty. Wonshik can’t understand.

He opens his mouth to speak, to say anything, but swiftly and quickly as ever, Hakyeon is opening the door and taking him outside, grabbing his arm, gently but with strength, and guiding him to the front steps of the house.

Wonshik glances at the forest then, a glimpse of a golden light taking his attention, but it fades away completely when Hakyeon turns his head to look at it.

They stop at the front door, Hakyeon still holding him.

“Are you really okay?”

“Yeah.” He says, batting Hakyeon’s hand off.

The other man sighs, “Good. Can we talk?”

The question takes him by surprise. He nods.

“I wanted to talk about this on a more… cheerful night but it is what it is.”

He nods again, still clueless on why both he and Hongbin are bearing such somber expressions.

“You’re staying, then. You made your decision.”

“Yes…” He says, voice low, “I like it here.”

“Well,” Hakyeon gives him a small smile, “I’m glad you took a liking to this pitiful city, as small as it is, we will love to have you here.”

“Thank you.” He lets outs, knowing that there’s something more to be said.

Hakyeon shifts in place.

“Since you’re staying… I need to tell you a story. A tale, about the city.” He pauses, glancing at the woods behind his back, “And the forest that surrounds it.”

“Oh?”

A gust of wind rushes through them, making Wonshik shiver.

“It’s an old folk’s tale, there are many versions of it but.” Hakyeon says, searching something on Wonshik’s eyes, “All versions warn the people about the dangers inside the forest, and why you shouldn’t walk in there.”

“The disappearances?”

“That. Yes. In the most common version of the tale, the forest is cursed by a witch. They say the witch looks as fair and beautiful as anyone’s dreams, and that it lures people with sweet songs and impossible questions. In this version, there’s no explanation on why the supposed witch would take the lives of people, in my humble opinion, it’s just a tale to scare kids away.”

Hakyeon pauses and Wonshik notices he’s shivering too.

“But there’s more to it,” he continues, “the tale is as old as the town. In one variation, they say that the witch was actually in love with the forest and that the forest cursed the witch in return, in this version, is the forest that is evil, and that it’s the witch’s curse, for falling in love with the forest, to kill the people who walk in.”

Wonshik doesn’t know what to say, for him, that sounds incredibly unfair.

But Hakyeon keeps going:

“There’s also another version, and this one is more new, fresh. This version says that a golden knight will come from far away, someday, to undo the curse and save the city.” He takes a deep breath, “And kill the witch, of course.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because,” Hakyeon speaks, his voice wavering a little. “The forest _is_ dangerous, Wonshik. If you’re staying you need to know that, understand that deeply in your core.”

Wonshik tilts his head, remembering all the days he had spent walking in the forest, all the joyous moments, the glorious views.

“Okay.”

“Right.” Hakyeon pats his head, “I’m going, Hongbin is probably already planning my murder in the car, see you soon okay? Drink lots of water.”

Wonshik nods, forcing out a smile, “Sure, see you.”

He watches as Hakyeon turns around gracefully and walks back to the car. He keeps watching as the lights of the truck light up and goes away, down the muddy path.

It’s only when he hears nothing, sees nothing, that he turns to open the front door.

But of course, as he had expected, the door is already open, with Taekwoon standing there, looking at him with those cat-like eyes, questioning.

Wonshik takes his time to look at the man, his silver hair, his pale face, his beauty mark and his oversized black hoodie.

It’s affection and adoration – probably – that surges inside his heart, and he closes the distance between them.

“Sorry, it was a long talk.”

Taekwoon doesn’t answer, but nudges close, burying his face in Wonshik’s neck.

“It’s okay.” Comes the muffled soft sound of Taekwoon’s voice, and Wonshik can’t help but hold him closer, tighter.

The forest isn’t dangerous, never was. Wonshik is pretty sure of that. Maybe everyone just didn’t know how to appreciate it, or just didn’t know how to look at it from another perspective.

It is clear – very clear – in his mind, that whatever had happened to the forest and to the so-called witch, it was a very different thing than what those tales rambled about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the lack of updates my friends;; life is just this crazy thing isn't it? 
> 
> and ah...... i'm already starting to feel sad cause this story is approaching its end. no spring can last forever, unfortunately.   
> (but still, we have five or six chapters more)
> 
> are you enjoying? do you have any questions? lol
> 
> ━━☆⌒*. [twitter](https://twitter.com/tttarkus)


	17. Interlude: all the shades of green, all the shades of healing, of trusting;

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a little bonus! ☆

“Where are you taking me this time?”

Taekwoon chuckles beside him, their hands entwined together. The path they’re taking through the forest this time is easier, as if the trees themselves had opened the way for them. Small bushes with white flowers surround it, and even with the thick foliage of the trees, the sun reaches the ground, making it all very bright, soothing.

“No place in particular.” Taekwoon answers, playful.

They had settled in a routine of going on morning walks ever since they had sealed their relationship with the kiss under the full moon. Not that they weren’t used to it before. If Wonshik’s memory is right, they had been doing this since they had met.

Soothing, he thinks to himself, all the nature, all the flowers. The whole forest.

And that’s when Hakyeon’s words come to his mind, making him stop in his tracks, curiosity peaking.

“Hey,” he calls. “Do you think this forest is dangerous?”

Taekwoon smiles, his eyes turning into small crescents, “Do you?”

A small orange butterfly passes by them, and Wonshik unclasps his hand from Taekwoon’s, trying to follow the butterfly with his fingers.

“I don’t know. It doesn’t seem so to me.”

When he looks at Taekwoon again, he can see that the other man has a look of utter adoration in his eyes. It’s almost embarrassing.

“Of course,” Taekwoon replies, raising one of his arms to catch a wildflower from a tree nearby. “I don’t think so either. Actually, I’m deeply in love with this forest.”

Wonshik chuckles, picking the flower from Taekwoon’s hands, “Are you cheating on me with a _whole_ forest Taekwoon? Is that it?”

“Probably.”

It’s not only the joke that makes Wonshik smile but the actual realization that Taekwoon didn’t deny the fact that they were together. As stupid as it was, Wonshik still feared that he had read the situation wrong.

“Well, be careful, I might as well steal her from you.”

Taekwoon giggles, coming closer, their noses brushing.

“It’s okay, I think she would be glad to have both of us.”

As if in answer, the wind blows, making the branches move, carrying out a sound that seemed just like a whisper.

They kiss lightly, chaste, sealing the unspoken deal.

It’s only after a few minutes pass by, with their walk resumed again, that Taekwoon speaks. Their footsteps a mirror of the other’s, their hands almost brushing.

“Wonshik, do you trust me?”

A weird question, out of place and time, but Wonshik answers in a heartbeat: “Yes, always.”

And isn’t that the biggest truth?

“Okay.” Taekwoon nods, still looking ahead, at the path, at the forest, “You asked me about the forest.”

“Yes?”

Wonshik stops again, looking at Taekwoon.

Far away, he hears birds singing.

“This forest,” Taekwoon begins, touching a tree bark, “isn’t dangerous, however… you could say that _she_ has some magic.”

“Oh.”

“And just like any other thing that comes from nature, she isn’t good or bad, she’s only what she is. Do you remember what I taught you about magic?”

Wonshik hums, “Intention, energy, spells?”

It’s not like they had gotten far on that subject, but Taekwoon only smiles at him.

“Magic is intention, yes.” He takes a step forward, locking his eyes on Wonshik’s, “You have to trust me, please, because when the time comes, you will need all your intention directed to what you want, what you believe.”

“What do you mean?”

“Wonshik, darling,” Taekwoon holds out a hand to touch one of Wonshik’s cheeks. “You’re so strong, so full of magic. The forest loves it, I –”

The sudden stop makes Wonshik blush. He looks at the ground.

“What I’m trying to tell you is,” Taekwoon starts again, voice soft, so soft, “when the time comes, you have to get all that power from inside of you and focus on it. Do you know what you should focus on?”

Wonshik feels startled. No. He doesn’t know, how could he?

But.

If it’s _for love_ and if it’s for _kindness_ and _gentleness_.

He grins, raising his head again and, instead of looking at his lover, he looks up and up, to the skies and to the greens of the leaves.

“Yeah. Do _you_ trust me, Taekwoon?”

The answer comes with a soft touch, a small peck on his neck.

“Always.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry i couldn't wait for this one, even if it's small, i don't know, it makes me emotional lol
> 
> i will blame it on the new moon in pisces and mercury retrograde lol
> 
> ━━☆⌒*. [twitter](https://twitter.com/tttarkus)


	18. Spring IV

June comes with unbearable heat, and with the sound of cicadas and bees flying all around. It also comes with lazy mornings spent in bed, trading kisses and moans, and too much time walking outside, in the heart of the forest.

But June also comes with a crippling fear, something Wonshik knows all too well. The fear of knowing he should be doing _something_ about his songs, his mixtape, and also, the fear of rejection.

Always the fear of rejection.

And the thing is, Wonshik knows precisely what he should do. But he fears, oh he fears.

Here is the problem: Wonshik has everything ready – yes. But he doesn’t want to do it like the other times, to post the songs on the internet and beg for attention. Oh no. This time he wants to go big, wants to send it to a big company and say _here it is_.

Because it’s an important project, made with a lot of love and care, with small touches of everything he has learned to love in the past months. The river, the forest, the small town. And Taekwoon.

Maybe Wonshik is daydreaming a little bit, maybe it’s just his child self speaking again.

But he knows it’s time. The urgency, perhaps, comes from a deep knowledge that he won’t be going into big cities again, he won’t be leaving the small town anytime soon. That thought doesn’t creep him out in the slightest. It’s his decision, after all.

So, on one day, Wonshik wakes up knowing exactly what he needs to do.

Wonshik will pack a change of clothes, will take his old silver car and will drive all the way to the big city, and _then_ he will do everything he needs to do. Go to the big companies, meet his friends. Talk to his _father_ and probably tell him how he will never appear in front of him again.

Yeah.

Easy as breathing.

☾

“Are you going to be okay?”

Wonshik hears right next to his ear, the voice sending shivers down his spine. The back hug doesn’t take him by surprise, but the weight being downed on him does. It feels as if Taekwoon doesn’t want him to go.

“What are you doing?” He replies, shaking the other man away.

He thinks he sees the other pouting, but he ignores in favor to start organizing his small backpack. It’s only three days anyway.

“I’m _worried_ ,” Taekwoon says, approaching again and sitting on the bed, staring at Wonshik, still pouting.

Wonshik chuckles, “Worried about what? It’s not like I will disappear or something bad will happen.”

“It’s not that. I worry about you. You with yourself.”

Oh. Well. If Wonshik can be honest, that’s a great point for worrying. However, he isn’t the same man from before, he isn’t as scared as he was when he set foot in this house way back in October.

Wonshik is not the same, and, with changes also comes courage.

Right?

“Wonshik.” Taekwoon says, grounding him again, placing both hands on his waist and bringing him closer, “I trust you, but I will miss you.”

Surprise takes hold and Wonshik blinks, trying to understand the words. Taekwoon never spoke about his affections like that.

“It’s just three days.” He says out loud, leaning down to be face to face with Taekwoon, “But I will miss you too.”

The shy smile and the faint blush are still surprises to him, so he goes for a kiss, slow and small.

After a couple of seconds, Taekwoon pushes him onto the bed so they can sit side by side, backpack long forgotten.

“I have two things for you.”

Wonshik smiles, “Another kiss?”

“No.” Taekwoon answers, feigning seriousness, but it’s obvious he’s smiling as well, “You can call them charms, if you want.”

Taekwoon turns to face Wonshik, touching his neck slightly, and that’s the moment he notices the warm feeling spreading through his body.

“You already have silver with you,” he starts, playing with the small necklace on Wonshik’s neck. “Your friends gave it to you, so you must keep it at all times.”

Wonshik picks up the chain with his fingers, sensing the magic in it. It had been so long… so many months… he had never noticed that the thing was, as Taekwoon had said, charmed.

“Silver is for good luck.”

“Okay?”

He sees Taekwoon shuffling, trying to find whatever he will give to Wonshik in his pockets. And then Wonshik is curious, anxious. Not because it’s a charm, or because it’s magic. But because it’s a _gift_. From Taekwoon.

If he had learned anything in the past weeks, is that intention matters and giving something to others… well. That’s a big deal.

The first thing Taekwoon takes out is a gold ring, thin and fragile, and that makes Wonshik’s heart stop.

“Gold is for strength,” Taekwoon says, voice softening on the edges, picking up Wonshik’s right hand. “Can I?”

He kind of freaks out a little, because he doesn’t know if Taekwoon knows what that gesture entails, probably yes, probably not. _It’s just a charm_ , he assures himself, nodding.

He doesn’t know why he would need strength, but he feels as soon as the ring touches his finger, the heat, the magic, growing.

Wonshik shivers.

Taekwoon smiles at him, gentle and kind, standing his other hand and showing the other gift.

And _that_ is unexpected.

It’s just a handmade bracelet, made with many shades of red fabric. It’s pretty and simple, and Taekwoon takes his left arm, questioning Wonshik with his eyes, tying the bracelet.

“And red.” He says, “Do you know what red stands for?”

He senses the magic enveloping him, taking him to the clouds and back. A feeling he knows all too well.

If silver is for good luck and gold is for strength, red can only be for one thing.

 _for love for love_.

☾

When everything is ready and goodbyes have been said, Wonshik turns on the engine of his car and drives away, watching as the house and the forest fade away through the rearview mirror. A feeling rises inside his chest, of longing, of fear.

But Wonshik no longer fears the unknown. In fact, he probably never did.

His fears were his fault alone, and wasn’t that a soothing thing to think about?

He drives along the muddy road and through the small city, passing by Sanghyuk’s store slowly. He thinks he sees someone waving from inside, but he isn’t quite sure. Maybe it’s just wishful thinking.

However, when the city is only a small dot on his view, when the big long road is the only thing he sees ahead, Wonshik starts to whisper a mantra, a spell, something.

It’s all about intention, after all.

_I will be back, I will be back, my love_

And so he drives, endlessly, with only a soft piano tune playing as background noise. It makes him remember Taekwoon and his skilled fingers, it makes him remember countless nights creating, living.

The road is long and lonely, devoid of any cars or passerby; if Wonshik were a more poetic kind of man, he would say that that was the perfect metaphor for his little trip.

To face his fears, to meet his other half, alone.

Almost automatically, he touches the golden band on his finger.

Not alone, not anymore.

And so Wonshik drives.

☾

There’s noise. Too much noise. And lights, and people everywhere.

A thin rain falls, making the scenery even more chaotic, with umbrellas bumping into one another and cars splashing water everywhere. Smoke and dirt and people _everywhere_.

Wonshik places his hand on top of the red bracelet, taking a deep breath.

It hasn’t even been a year, but he feels so small, looking at the big skyscrapers and at everyone just staring ahead, not sparing a second glance, a smile, a wave.

It’s cold and alone.

For a glimpse of a moment, he muses that this is the truest form of a _dangerous forest_. But he quickly brushes it away, taking the necessary steps to the big building and straightening his hair one more time before he enters it.

It’s in a little bit of a daze that he goes from receptionist to secretary to a small meeting room filled with dark wooden furniture and black cups of coffee. And it’s in a little bit of a daze that he introduces himself to the man in front of him, who is wearing a suit and tie, looking generally restrained.

Wonshik himself probably looks like that too.

They talk quickly before Wonshik is showing the man his songs. His heart beats fast in his ribcage, and maybe he’s sweating a little. But the man doesn’t show any expression, regarding Wonshik with a small wave of his hands and telling him he will get in contact.

The process repeats at least five times more before he gives up entirely.

It was a foolish dream, of course.

When night comes, with the rain subduing a little, Wonshik had drunk more espressos than he can count, and he feels restless, lacking something he certainly had before. He looks at his cellphone, wanting to reach out, wanting to speak of his failures, but he knows it’s impossible. Taekwoon and the forest… they’re unreachable now.

He makes a call anyway.

It rings, once, twice. Three times, until a very familiar voice answers on the other side:

“Wonshik?”

The voice sounds muffled, lazy.

“I’m sorry.”

“Wonshik? Are you alright?”

“No…Bin, I failed. I’m a failure.”

He hears Hongbin taking a deep breath on the other side, the sound of shuffling bedsheets.

“I seriously doubt that. What happened?”

Silence follows as Wonshik remembers all the meetings.

“I – I tried you know? I think I never entered that many corporate buildings in one day – no, in my whole life! – as I did today. They hated it, Binnie, my songs, they all hated it.”

Hongbin hums, as he always does. Hongbin, after all, is the one that listens, not the one who talks truths.

By the window of the cheap hotel, Wonshik sees the faint city lights, as well as another wall, another building. It maddens him even more.

“I don’t think I can do it, I don’t think I was born to do it.”

“Shh Wonshik, what are you talking about? You spent months creating those songs, don’t treat your hard work like that.”

“But – ”

“No, whatever you say, it’s unreasonable. You have great things in you, Wonshik,” Hongbin says, serious, almost angry. “And look, if those fancy guys didn’t like it? That’s their problem alright? Don’t you have like, the internet, to post your stuff? If your goal is to reach people, well then.”

He shakes his head to no one, only to the window, to the city.

“I know but.”

“You wanted to make a career out of that.”

“Yes?”

Hongbin _tsks_ on the other side of the line, Wonshik can almost picture his judging eyes.

“Typical city boy behavior,” he says. “Just because you didn’t make it in your first, second or twentieth time it doesn’t actually matter, just do your thing, Wonshik, with passion and love and kindness. You know, that’s something that I actually learned with Hyuk, of all people. When I lost everything – and that’s another story for another day – he would always tell me we can do everything we want in our lives, we can be as many people as we want, try as many careers. I understand that you love music, want to get recognized. Of course. But you’re so much more, too.”

“Oh.”

Wonshik brushes his eyes, feeling the small tears that threatened to get out.

“Besides…” Hongbin continues, “I thought you were going to work for me?”

And that makes both of them laugh. Wonshik falls on the small bed, looking at the grey ceiling, holding tightly onto the cellphone.

“Thank you Bin.”

“You know, I will charge you when you get back, for this conversation. Never thought I would also become a therapist.”

Wonshik laughs some more, the silver necklace encompassing him with a warm sensation.

“You’re the worst.”

“I’m glad you know that,” Hongbin says. “Oh, and Wonshik?”

“Yes?”

“Remember it’s only the start.”

The start the start, the _star_. Wonshik sighs, turning and looking at the window again.

“I know.”

☾

In the morning, after a restless night in a strange bed, Wonshik decides to take a walk before the upcoming _meeting_. It’s almost midday, with the chaos of the city only just beginning. And even though it’s spring, Wonshik can’t see any flowers.

There’s no place for flowers in big cities.

Which doesn’t make the city bad, or good. It’s just how it is.

He takes a deep breath, eyeing the sidewalks, dirty and grey. Nearby, he sees a street clock pointing out it’s almost time.

If he could only call Taekwoon, speak to him, just for some seconds, he feels that everything would be alright.

But the thing is, he can’t rely on other people when it comes to his own fears, his own anxieties.

It’s Wonshik by himself.

He touches the red bracelet, the gold band, and then the silver chain.

The magic almost sings to him, he can feel it.

And it’s only the start anyway.

He picks up his cellphone from his pocket, looks at the time and gathers all the strength he has, taking the necessary steps that will lead him to the fancy restaurant that his father had chosen.

The place is all marble floors and gold furniture, making Wonshik feel out of place even wearing one of his best outfits.

This is not his world, he thinks to himself the moment he spots his father sitting in a corner, already measuring him with his eyes, this is not me, he thinks and repeats.

_Not me not me_

The gold ring burns on his finger, just like the gentle warmth of a bonfire.

He thinks of Taekwoon then, and he thinks of the forest and all the flowers.

Wonshik sits, greeting kindly the waiter who had been standing by the side.

And then he finally looks at the person who brought so many nightmares to his life.

“Hello, father.”

The man nods at him, and Wonshik can see the dark circles under his eyes, the bald head, the wrinkles. He looks tired, waisted, exhausted, and overall, not happy at all. It’s to be expected, after years and years of severing their relationship with fights and bickering. Wonshik was never the son his father had wanted, never made him proud; and, on the other hand, his father was never a good paternal figure.

In the end, there is nothing more Wonshik can do other than have this lunch and tell him about his plans. It’s the last try.

“Wonshik.” His father regards him with heavy eyes. “What’s this all about?”

He sighs, “Let’s just… order the food first? How have you been? How’s your wife?”

His father grunts, but starts the conversation like the educated man he is. They talk about the weather and about the last political scandal, the food is ordered and brought by quickly, and Wonshik eases himself into the inevitable disappointment that he will bring.

“So…” His father starts when coffee arrives at their table, “Is this about your engagement?”

Wonshik almost spills the coffee he has been sipping, all wide eyes: “My what?”

“Aren’t you engaged?” The man frowns, “I thought this lunch was about that since you’re wearing a ring and all.”

_Oh my god._

“No, no no this is just an accessory.”

“Really now?”

“Yeah.”

Wonshik feels his anxiety crippling in, making him hot and cold, dizzy, his coffee long forgotten.

“It doesn’t seem like it. What are you hiding?”

And there it is, his cue to start talking.

But, for a moment, he tries to breathe, tries to think if it’s necessary to say whatever he wanted to speak to his father.

Did that man even earn that kind of honesty from Wonshik?

He ponders.

“I’m not hiding anything, I never did. I just wanted to see you,” _one last time_ , he says to himself. “See how you are. I’m moving.”

A single raised eyebrow is directed at him, together with a judgmental look.

“Moving? I figured you had quit your old job since you’re wearing those…” He waves at Wonshik, a little bit of disgust on his face. “Where are you going? Are you running away again?”

It hurts a little, to hear and see those things. But gold, the gold is for strength, and he has love by his side too.

“I’m going to live my life, father, maybe it’s nothing grand and ambitious as _you_ have planned, but it’s my life, and it’s mine, so.”

He gasps at the end, picking the cup of coffee and taking a sip only to occupy his hands.

His father looks at him, measuring, but by the end, he only exhales.

“Wonshik, you do whatever you want. I don’t care, you disappointed me enough already.”

It doesn’t feel like a victory, but it’s something nonetheless.

It is what it is, can’t change nature, can’t change people.

“Thank you,” Wonshik says with all the honesty he can muster.

There’s no smile, no nod, only the heavy stare.

But it’s enough.

He quickly gets up, throws a couple of bills on the table and walks out.

By the time he reaches the streets, he hears a song being sung in his ears.

Or better, not a song, but a mantra, a spell.

 _for love for love_.

The forest is calling back to him.

☾

In his last night in the city of shattered hopes, Wonshik dreams.

Wonshik dreams of darkness and cold hands touching him, dragging him down, calling him back to the place he belongs.

There’s no forest in sight, no tall trees, no fog. Only the darkness.

But Wonshik notices he’s still wearing the red bracelet, and it’s only it, and the glow and the heat that make him gather the necessary strength to take one step forward. And then another, and another.

In the far horizon, he sees a faint golden light, and, deep inside his heart he knows he should be running towards it.

But he can’t, the hands too strong, the magic too faint.

Wonshik wakes up with tears in his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh look at all those feelings........
> 
> ━━☆⌒*. [twitter](https://twitter.com/tttarkus)


	19. Spring V

Wonshik arrives at the house-that-isn’t-his in the afternoon, the skies clear, the flowers still in bloom.

But he doesn’t take a second glance, in fact, he doesn’t even process what’s happening because, as soon as he steps out of the car, Wonshik starts running.

Running towards the forest, being engulfed in the scent of mud, decay, and life.

Wonshik runs and runs, getting dirtied and scratched along the way, but he doesn’t care.

It’s just so good to be back.

He feels like the forest is welcoming him in, embracing his whole body with all its energy and trees. He only stops when his legs give out, falling on his knees in the middle of nowhere.

Wonshik’s world spins, dizziness encompassing his whole soul. It seems almost like a lucid dream when, on his left side, he sees a white being coming out from the trees.

And that’s the moment he understands many things, and also the moment he’s genuinely sure he knows nothing, too.

It’s Taekwoon who appears in front of him, dressed in white silken robes, with his white hair, pale complexion, and the black – so black – eyes. It’s Taekwoon, but at the same time, it’s not him. The being in front of him surely isn’t a mortal man, human, earthly. Taekwoon looks holy, ethereal and just like something out of Wonshik’s wildest dreams.

It’s not real, it can’t be.

But when Taekwoon kneels in front of him, his white garments getting dirtied by the mud, and cups Wonshik’s face with his hands, Wonshik understands that it is real. That this is real.

He doesn’t process the moment he starts crying, but he does cry, his tears falling down his cheeks and hitting the ground, creating dark little spots. His face – so warm – and Taekwoon kissing the wet trails and cooing at him, soothing, always soothing with his soft voice.

“Shh don’t cry, don’t cry, you’re okay, you’re here darling, you’re home.”

_Home_.

Wonshik doesn’t know the reason for his outburst, he doesn’t even try to understand it. In the end, he just lets himself go, crying and wetting Taekwoon’s face, Taekwoon’s chest. And the earth, and the forest.

Only when he feels there are no more tears left, he looks at the man holding him, into the deep black eyes.

He opens his mouth to say something, an apology, a greeting, but nothing comes out.

And it’s Taekwoon who helps him get up, holding him by the waist and guiding him through the forest.

“Home, Wonshik, let’s go home.”

He nods, starting to move his feet and clinging to Taekwoon’s side. But, a sound, almost like a whisper, makes him turn his head. That’s the moment he catches a glimpse of the ground he was kneeling on, noticing that every place where his tears fell, small red flowers are starting to sprout and grow.

The sight makes Wonshik shiver, but soon there’s a hand pushing him forward, not giving him time to dwell on red flowers.

☾

The bed sheets feel soft under his body, just like clouds; Taekwoon hovers above him, searching his eyes, a question lingering heavy in the air. But Wonshik doesn’t feel like talking, not now at least, he prefers to look into the soft features of his lover’s face, studying every corner, every curve.

There’s a faint light coming from the window, the curtains waving slowly, a steady breeze coming from outside, bringing in the scent of wet leaves and blooming white flowers.

Everywhere there’s only the forest and Taekwoon.

He blinks, and when he does that, a sudden realization dawns upon him. For Wonshik, both of these things had become _home_.

And that’s the moment he looks around – finally.

The window is too wide for it to be the one in his room, the scenery, too gold, too green. The walls aren’t empty; instead, they’re covered with silver hand mirrors of many sizes; on his left side, he sees a giant wooden bookshelf filled with ancient books and crystals. Somewhere, he can smell the scent of burning incense. Everywhere he looks, now that he realizes, it’s foreign, odd. When Wonshik finally stares at the ceiling, he sees stars made of thick twigs hanging by thin strings and the whole thing is so surreal he doesn’t have the mind to get scared.

And then he looks at Taekwoon, who’s still staring at him.

“Where…?”

Taekwoon sighs, frowning and then lying beside Wonshik, pushing him lightly so he turns as well.

They stare at each other for quite some time before a gust of wind blows, breaking the moment, making the hanging stars twinkle above.

“I _trust_ you,” Taekwoon says, closing his eyes and nuzzling on Wonshik’s chest. “I brought you to my house.”

“Oh.”

“It was closer from where you were and… well.” He stops, opening his eyes again and cupping Wonshik’s cheeks, “I wanted you to heal, safely, from whatever happened to you.”

“I –”

Taekwoon touches Wonshik’s hand then, the side with the golden ring. Warmness spreads all over his body, and he sighs, content.

“You don’t need to talk if you don’t want to.”

But he does need. Deep inside he knows, that’s the only way to let it all go. And, to allow other things to begin as well.

Wonshik snuggles close, “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For uh… everything, really.”

A touch on his lips, a smile directed at him.

“Don’t be sappy now.”

Wonshik grins at that.

And outside the wind is still blowing, the flowers still blooming.

“It was terrifying,” he starts. “To be back in the city. I don’t know how that happened, I felt so afraid and anxious _all the time_. People there, they’re different, hurrying, never looking to the sides, never stopping.”

“Hm, but did you manage? To do the things you wanted?”

“Yeah, but barely. I went to the companies, showed them my music. Ah.”

He stops, remembering the look on the faces of all those seemingly important people. It still feels like a failure, bitter and raw.

But Taekwoon, soft and shining, looks at him with those black eyes and everything is okay again.

“I don’t think this little trip will change anything to my music. They didn’t like it, Taek. I think it’s not _commercial_ enough for them.”

There’s no pity on Taekwoon’s face, nor anger. Instead, Wonshik can only see a little bit of amusement, maybe.

“Well, what are you going to do now?”

“I don’t know.” He shifts, opting to stare at the ceiling and at the hanging stars, the work so carefully made, and yet, seemingly rustic and rushed too. Why why, he has so many questions in his head but. “I think I’m just… going to do what I always did. Post it on the internet and see what happens.”

Taekwoon hums by his side, moving so he’s staring up at the ceiling too. He quickly grabs Wonshik’s right hand and holds it.

“You seem to not like that option.”

“It’s because,” he stops, turning to look at Taekwoon’s profile, and then he realizes, by looking at the shape of his lover’s nose, at his lips and his chubby cheeks. “Oh. It’s because, maybe, I wanted fame. Recognition. Money.”

Taekwoon doesn’t move, but his fingers tighten in Wonshik’s hand, so he goes on:

“To make a career out of that, you know? To show everyone that’s possible, achievable and – ”

“Is it really what you wanted?”

It’s barely a whisper, what Taekwoon says, but it hits Wonshik in all the places he kindly concealed from everyone, including himself.

And he takes some time, a couple of minutes, to consider Taekwoon’s question.

Outside, the sun is just starting to set, coloring the room in a fantastic golden hue, dreamy, always dreamy with Taekwoon.

When the conclusion comes, it’s way easier and simpler than what he thought.

He doesn’t need it. The fame, the recognition, the bright spotlight; he never really wanted that, in fact, he just wanted – no, he still _wants_ – for his music to reach people. That doesn’t mean it needs to be bought by a big agency, though.

He moves, feeling a little euphoric from the realization, getting on top of Taekwoon and looking intensely at the black eyes.

“You’re right.”

Taekwoon looks surprised, but grins all the same, “Am I?”

“Of course you are!” He kisses the pink lips, kisses the cheeks, kisses Taekwoon’s eyelids, giggling all the way, “You’re so right!”

They roll on the bed together, chuckling.

And the day is almost fading, bringing the night sky and more… interesting things, so Wonshik kisses Taekwoon with more intent, trying to convey how _glad_ he’s feeling with just that act.

They kiss and kiss, until both of them are smiling and panting and feeling whole in each other’s arms.

By then, it’s completely dark outside. But even in the darkness, Wonshik feels like something got out of his chest, something heavy, like a sword has been taken out, a weight he had been carrying throughout all his life.

So, when he feels that, he kisses Taekwoon some more.

☾

There’s sunlight peeking out from the window, touching Wonshik’s skin gently, urging him to wake up and to enjoy the day ( _the days_ ) ahead. He stirs, the bed way too comfortable. He peaks one eye open only to see two creatures staring at him.

In a gasp, he moves quite hastily, taking the bed sheets and the creatures with him.

It’s only after a few seconds that he notices they’re cats, one white as the purest snow, and the other black, just like the so known darkness.

Oh.

It downs upon him then.

He’s in Taekwoon’s house.

And that’s the moment he notices the noises of pans and a low humming.

Taekwoon, Taekwoon.

He sighs, and the cats meow at him.

It’s odd, but not in a wrong way, to wake up like this. Stumbling a little, he tries to find a bathroom, the cats on his tow, keeping him company, guiding him.

Fortunately, he finds it at the first door he tries. It feels a little bit crumpled, with many potted plants everywhere, hanging from the ceiling, scattered on the floor, all green and lively. The mirror looks old, and Wonshik can barely see his reflection there. But he manages.

It’s quite shocking, the view.

Not that he didn’t have mirrors in his own house but.

Here is the thing: it’s been some time since he had stopped to _look_.

Wonshik’s reflection looks back at him, eyes shining with something big, important. His black hair falls on his forehead, and the usual dark circles under his eyes are gone. The reflection looks fresh, young, and so full of life, he barely perceives that it’s him.

He washes his face, hurrying to clean his thoughts, too.

When he steps out, the cats are still waiting for him, and they guide Wonshik throughout the narrow corridor. The walls are all painted with different symbols that he can’t quite understand, and suddenly, he’s walking down a stair made of ancient wood that cracks with his every step, leading him to a spacious room that holds everything.

And when Wonshik says _everything,_ he means it.

There are books everywhere, on shelves and on the floor. More potted plants and many, many candles, silver chalices, stones and crystals everywhere. And flowers! Hanging from the ceiling, bearing all the colors of the rainbow. There are mirrors, too, of all shapes and sizes, some leaning on the walls, some on the ceiling.

And, because this is still a _house_ , there’s a green couch in one corner, a small round table with two chairs and a space that can only be considered the kitchen, by the number of pans, pots, and cauldrons Wonshik’s sees there.

It looks messy and chaotic, but homey all the same. And when he sees Taekwoon there, singing a song while brewing what he hopes is coffee or tea, Wonshik can’t help but smile.

Their embrace is soft, no words spoken, just smiles thrown to each other. Taekwoon passes him a mug, and they quietly sip the liquid. It’s tea, after all. But Wonshik can live with that.

Wonshik can live with lots of things, it turns out. He can live with the quiet buzz of the bees outside, and with the mess of artifacts and books scattered around, and with Taekwoon touching his feet playfully with his own, while humming one of the songs _they_ created.

And when Taekwoon finally urges him outside, saying without words that he should go home, he follows.

The forest welcomes them easily, and Wonshik feels a pang of sorrow, for leaving Taekwoon’s home so soon. He looks back just in time to see the trees and bushes closing around the small cabin as if they were ordered to do just that.

Magic.

It all falls back in place then, and he opts to look at Taekwoon walking by his side.

“Why…?” He ventures to ask.

“Why what?”

The wind blows, making all the twigs and branches move with it, scattering petals, scattering leaves all around. Wonshik picks up a yellow flower from the air and holds it dearly in his hands.

It’s hard to form words when he feels too much.

“Why were you – no – why are you always… so good to me?”

And even though Wonshik knows they’re more or less together, in a relationship, probably. They never discussed that subject. There’s something about last night, about finally looking into Taekwoon’s life, that made Wonshik kind of restless. And it’s not only that. The energy, the spring, the heat coming from the sun, all of those things add up for his feelings of anxiety.

Something is approaching, something big, his intuition says, now that he cleared his past, something will start.

Taekwoon probably perceives his feelings, because he bumps against his shoulder.

“Isn’t it obvious?” He starts, “No one had been this kind to me for a long time, kindness brings kindness. But it’s not only because of that, of course not. I feel… very strong feelings towards you. Because of your kindness – yes. But also because of your tenderness, your soul, the way you look at the world, the way you fight your fears and demons. Everything about you. It’s quite fascinating.”

Wonshik chuckles, feeling a blush rise.

“I’m not that great.”

“Well, me neither,” Taekwoon replies.

He feels like arguing, feels like saying that’s a great lie. Because Taekwoon is great, the greatest. But it would be futile to do so, wouldn’t it? So he just keeps walking, sneaking one hand into Taekwoon’s.

They were never ones to talk much, not about this at least. But it’s the intention and the actions that speak more than everything.

Wonshik kisses Taekwoon cheeks, grinning as he does so.

The forest rejoices around them, blowing more flowers on their way.

☾

When they arrive at Wonshik’s “house,” everything is the same. The four days that he stayed away changed nothing about it, as expected.

Taekwoon helps him with the things that are still in the car, and they enter the house as if it was theirs. It kind of turned out to be, didn’t it? In all those cold nights, warm mornings and everything in between.

It’s with a certain sorrow that Wonshik thinks he’s going to leave the house soon. He has less than twenty days to work out what he’s going to do from now on. But he doesn’t feel pressured. Amazingly enough, it’s like everything will solve itself in time, and he kindly believes in that.

The first thing he does is to pick up his laptop from Taekwoon’s hands and head to the studio, certainty on his mind that that’s all he’s going to have after all.

He sits on the chair, and Taekwoon follows, placing both his elbows on the desk, holding his face with his hands and staring at Wonshik.

A question without words.

“Are you staying?”

“If you want me to…” Taekwoon trails off, shifting so he’s looking at the window, “I know you want some time to yourself, so it’s alright, you should also see your friends and – ”

“No,” Wonshik interrupts. “I actually need you for this. I’m going to post my work – our work – now. I feel it’s time.”

“Ah! So that’s what we are doing today.”

He chuckles, and with it, warmth spreads all over. He looks at the gold ring on his finger, and then at the red bracelet.

Strength and love.

“Yeah, hold my hand ‘cause I might get emotional.”

Taekwoon laughs, bright and carefree, but complies, taking Wonshik’s hands and giving him a tiny peck on his neck.

Strength and love.

☾

The rest of June passes by uneventful. After Wonshik uploads his songs on SoundCloud and Spotify, he quickly turns off his laptop and decides to take the whole rest of the month off of any technology.

He deserves that.

And he doesn’t care that he will not see the reactions of the people who call themselves his fans, or even the response of the media, the industry, whatever.

He just needs to breathe and live.

That’s precisely what he does.

On afternoons he goes to Hongbin’s bar, the other man teaching him the many ways one can deliver a glass of whiskey. Obviously, they get quite drunk most of the time, but it’s fun and different from everything Wonshik had ever done in his life, so he keeps going. Hongbin is too kind, going all the way to giving him the promised job of assistant, as well as one room to stay in his little apartment upstairs.

“ _Only until you figure yourself out._ ” It’s what Hongbin says sternly, but Wonshik knows it’s out of love.

And then there’s Sanghyuk, who appears out of nowhere in his house and decides that mornings are a great time to teach him how to tend to plants in general. That’s the point where Wonshik learns a little bit of earth magic too, with Sanghyuk urging him to just make this _one single rose grow out of nowhere_. Obviously, Wonshik fails.

But he does try.

Jaehwan comes too, with his cards and mirrors and cakes. Talking nonstop about the world outside. He’s the one that keeps Wonshik updated on his songs, how he’s doing. Wonshik has some doubts if everything Jaehwan tells it’s true or not, but he tries not to think much about that, preferring to just indulge the other man. And Jaehwan teaches him about the magic of divining, of seeing beyond. A task way too hard for Wonshik’s poor mind. After a couple of days, both of them agree that it’s best if they just eat the cake and talk about the last drama that happened in the city.

As the days grow hotter, longer. Hakyeon spends more and more of his time in Wonshik’s company, sometimes only watching him when he’s with the others, sometimes taking his hand and looking at the gold ring intently. But, most of the times, they talk, and what Hakyeon talks is about magic and healing. It’s as if Hakyeon is trying to teach Wonshik something important, but can’t quite find the right words.

And that’s the moment Wonshik perceives there’s something wrong happening.

He sees it when a bead of sweat falls from Hakyeon’s forehead to the ground, while his eyes look so sad, so full of despair, even though they’re talking about some sort of funny occurrence with Jaehwan.

It gets worse when Wonshik notices the side glances, the hidden whispers. Hongbin smiles at him and hugs him as if he would never see him again, and Sanghyuk becomes touchy, sending him way more food than necessary.

However, by the time night falls, Taekwoon is in his bed and all his worries disappear into love and devotion. Taekwoon kisses his lips and kisses his neck, and Wonshik, in return, bites and moans and everything is as sweet as ever.

In the midst of it all, on that fading, hazy month of June, the forest calls for him.

Wonshik knows it because he hears it in his dreams, a silent, urgent call.

Soon, soon.

☾

It’s on the night before the full moon that Wonshik notices how Taekwoon is also acting weird.

Taekwoon is clingier than usual, touching Wonshik everywhere, whining if he lets go of his hands. And when Wonshik kisses him right on the lips, something overcomes him, a sort of roughness, urgency, that he can’t quite identify where it comes from, can’t entirely control. He scratches and bites and marks, drawing blood, tasting blood, all the while with Taekwoon letting him, welcoming him, pure delight written all over his sweet face.

With blood, sweat and pleasure, all mingling together, they come in unison. It’s only afterward that Wonshik sees all the harm he had done, so he whispers an apology, kissing all the marked spots on the pale skin of his lover tenderly.

But Taekwoon only smiles, touching Wonshik’s face, coaxing him to look up, to look into his black eyes.

“I’m glad.” He says sweetly, his eyes closing.

“Why?”

Taekwoon gives him a smile, but it looks sad, and he can’t figure out if what he sees are tears coming out from Taekwoon’s eyes.

“Do you trust me?”

And here comes that question again.

“Of course,” Wonshik answers quickly, “always, Taek, I – ”

A finger is placed on his lips, stopping him.

“Sh, don’t say it, not yet.”

“But.”

“No. Not now. I need to tell you something.”

It’s the desperation in Taekwoon’s voice that makes Wonshik stop, turning in bed so he can look at Taekwoon face to face, their naked bodies still panting, sweating.

“What is it?”

Wonshik’s heart beats faster as he sees Taekwoon shaking his head.

“I need you to trust me, wholly and fully.”

“But I do.”

“So…” Taekwoon gives him a tiny kiss, “Tomorrow, do you know what day is it?”

He pursues his mind for an answer, but nothing arises, so he just lets out a small _no_.

“It’s the midsummer, the solstice. The longest day of the year.”

“Oh.”

“It’s the day of the fires, of the sun god. Of endings and beginnings,” Taekwoon stops, taking Wonshik’s hands on his own. “And also the day for wishes.”

It’s only then that Wonshik notices that there’s an object in his hand, probably something that came from Taekwoon’s magic, he carefully looks at their joined hands just to see a small red stone placed there.

“What…?” He marvels at the thing, at how shiny it is, how precious.

“It’s a ruby,” Taekwoon says. “It brings good fortune, amongst other things. I want you to carry this with you tomorrow.”

“Okay,” he replies, not knowing why Taekwoon looks so serious all of a sudden.

“And it will also guide you, tomorrow, to the place you need to be. Before the sun falls, you need to, Wonshik, please, you need to go where the ruby tells you to.”

He touches Taekwoon’s hair then, petting it slowly.

“Of course, you don’t need to get so antsy about it. I would do whatever you tell me to do, you know that. I really trust you with all my heart, Taekwoon.”

And isn’t that the biggest truth of it all?

But Taekwoon exhales slowly, looking tired, worn out, the purple spots on his neck making him look frail, spent.

“I just want everything to be good and alright.”

And it hurts Wonshik, so much, to see the fear on Taekwoon’s eyes, he just kisses him right then and there. If he can’t talk aloud his feelings, he can surely express them.

Intention, after all.

“It will be,” he says. “Trust me too, please.”

Taekwoon chuckles, sounding melancholic, as he gets up from the bed, leaving Wonshik cold and alone.

“I do, I will.”

It feels like a goodbye when Taekwoon touches Wonshik’s cheek one last time and kisses his nose.

“I will see you tomorrow, okay? Now you go to sleep, darling.”

And just like that, as if a spell has been cast upon him, Wonshik closes his eyes.

☾

Wonshik wakes up sweating, startled and afraid.

He had heard someone – something – crying.

He looks at his surroundings, at the messy blankets and at the messy room, he looks at the window and there, even with the curtains down, he sees that’s still dark outside.

_But the cry, the cry._

He hears nothing.

With a sigh, he convinces his mind that it was all but a dream.

And it wasn’t even a _bad_ dream, no. It was filled with yellow flowers and rays of sunshine and –

Wonshik hears the cry again, now clear and familiar.

In his daze, he gets up and puts some shoes on. He hurries outside the house, the night hot and filled with moths and the sounds of crickets. But, far away, he hears the cry again, seemingly more like a plea, coming from deep inside the forest.

He runs, his mind still foggy with sleep.

But it seems like something is guiding him because as he gets deeper and deeper inside the woods, the branches open up to let him pass.

Wonshik runs and runs, endlessly, the cry getting closer and closer.

He gets lost in time and space, only the need to get _there_ making him go on.

It’s a mix of desperation and fear, that laces him all over, when he finally steps from outside the thickness of the woods, only to find himself on top of the mountain, right where he can see the whole city below. Right where he faced all his fears in the so long winter solstice.

There, he takes careful steps, until he sees the full moon, bloody and gold, setting in the horizon.

It looks ominous and beautiful at the same time, and he gasps, forgetting for a single moment about everything.

There’s only the moon then, big and gold.

And then he finally sees it, the shadow, right in front of him.

Wonshik stumbles, falling on the ground, his heart almost giving out by how much he _fears_.

The shadow kneels in front of him, standing what could only be a hand to Wonshik. He doesn’t want to take it, but does he have a choice?

The cry echoes again, and now it seems way too far.

Someone’s dying, and it’s all Wonshik’s fault.

He takes the shadow’s hand, feeling the coldness of it encircling him, making him shiver even though it’s so _hot_.

He feels pain, feels like his hand is bleeding, and when he looks at it, the shadow is gone, but he’s holding what he feared.

A golden crown made of thorns, damaging the soft skin of his hand, causing him to bleed.

And then the moon is gone, the forest is gone, and there’s only him and the crown.

Wonshik cries and then he realizes that what he had heard was his own cry all along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to say I'm sorry but maybe let's wait for next chapter? lol
> 
> also, thank you guys so much for reading this story like........ i wrote it last year and it means so much to me in so many ways and it's wonderful to be able to share it with the world... thank you thank you ♡
> 
> ━━☆⌒*. [twitter](https://twitter.com/tttarkus)


	20. Interlude: of gold and flesh and love and pain;

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> do you trust me?
> 
> ** plays [the killing moon](https://open.spotify.com/track/15049rGLXHwrWtE4euUb5C?si=FVxbbOZzQUipayb3OIraUA) by echo and the bunnymen in the background **

There’s an incessant buzz coming from somewhere near his face, bringing Wonshik back to life. He groans, shuffling in bed. He tries to open his eyes only to be met with the blaring light coming from the window. He moves, trying for the life of him to find the source of the buzz. And finally – finally! – His hands find his cellphone. Wonshik doesn’t even look at the caller, he only answers it with a grumble.

He’s met with a cheerful laugh and static. It’s hard to understand what the person is saying, but he’s almost sure it’s Jaehwan. He only makes out some of his words: “ _summer festival!... Hakyeon… picking you up…_ ”

And sure enough, when he hangs up the call, turning in bed again, he hears footsteps approaching.

Wonshik still feels so dizzy, something in the back of his mind screaming at him to remember his last dream, to remember something _important_.

But he doesn’t have the time.

Hakyeon barges into his room with a broad smile, almost throwing him out of bed and urging him to get ready for the _festival_ , picking up clothes for him to wear.

Hakyeon himself is wearing garments that Wonshik could only call unusual: blue navy shirt, blue navy shorts, a flower crown made of deep blue flowers. The whole monochromatic style makes him wonder what’s going on.

But there isn’t time. Not when Hakyeon’s hands urge him to put the clothes he had picked up, not when Hakyeon applies some makeup on his face, and certainly not when he hears Hakyeon gasp, wide eyes turning to look at him, something on his hands.

“Wonshik…”

It should be impossible for this thing to exist. But there it is, right on Hakyeon’s tan hands.

Wonshik stumbles, falling on the bed again.

“No.”

“You need to wear it! It’s perfect for the festival!”

“I –”

But sure, it’s impossible to say no when Hakyeon is placing it on his head, the thing fitting perfectly.

“Now there you go, there’s only one tiny detail left…”

Wonshik sees Hakyeon shuffling in his bag until he takes out what seems to be a white cape. He kindly lets the other man put it on him, and when he looks at himself in the mirror, he’s met with a reflection he wasn’t expecting.

It had been a long time since Wonshik accepted that unusual, unnatural things could happen, especially after he learned about magic and all. But when he sees himself in the mirror, the vision takes his breath away for a moment.

It was probably Hakyeon’s doing, the whole gold eyeshadow around his eyes, the heavy eyeliner, the white shirt, white pants and white cape. And the entire outfit is fine for Wonshik, however, right there, on top of his messy black hair, he can see a golden crown, so brilliant, so real, all made of thorns.

“You’re _perfect_.”

Wonshik hears Hakyeon say, but he doesn’t process it right, too busy looking at his own reflection.

It’s only when Hakyeon urges him out of the room that Wonshik quickly grabs the ruby Taekwoon had given to him last night, putting it safely in his pocket.

There’s no time for questions when summer is already happening.

☾

Wonshik feels as if he has no choice but to follow, and, in hindsight, he feels like his whole life had been like this: a series of events where he was kindly forced to go to, either by others, either by his own mind.

In the here and now, Wonshik lets himself be lead inside the forest by Hakyeon, not only because of Hakyeon’s pressing eyes, but also because he feels a pull, a song, a desire.

It’s summer and the ruby inside his pocket almost burns his skin.

It’s summer and he wears his golden crown with pride.

It’s summer and the forest, with all its trees, is opening up to them, so they run and giggle and then run some more, the birds singing, the wind blowing.

Some sort of delight overcomes Wonshik then, when he suddenly finds himself in a clearing, Hakyeon finally letting go of his hand.

The first thing he sees is the bonfire, big and hot and _burning_ , creating even more heat around; the sound of burning wood filling his ears, the smoke making his eyes tear up. There are the trees, too, in all their greenery glory, and then, there’s also the scattered petals of all colors of spring on the ground.

There’s no place for flowers in summer.

And then, he sees the others, all around the bonfire, dancing and laughing in the madness of the summer festival. Jaehwan is all reds, like blood and passion, and he smiles at Wonshik and takes him by the waist, spinning him in place and saying _how glad he feels now that Wonshik arrived_. Sanghyuk is in green, like honesty and moss, and he grabs Wonshik before he falls, chuckling in his ear and telling him there’s wine for everyone, and then Wonshik is pushed, right into Hongbin’s arms, who’s yellow – so yellow! – like the sun, like the flowers that die every summer, like hope.

And then the circle is complete, with all five sitting in front of the bonfire. There’s indeed wine, bottles of it appearing out of nowhere, and there are bread and fruits and Wonshik can’t quite think straight because there’s the fire and giggles and also _hands_ that keep urging him to dance and sing.

Wonshik follows, again and again, too entrapped in the heat, in the madness.

From somewhere, a cry echoes, but it’s of joy and delight.

It’s summer! Summer!

Sanghyuk sings and Hongbin plays with his hair while Hakyeon grabs more wood for the fire. And Jaehwan drinks and drinks until his mouth is the same color as his clothes.

It’s summer, and Wonshik starts to forget about black eyes and pink lips and pale hands and kisses under the moon and –

It’s summer and someone is singing, a soft tune, soothing, full of life.

Wonshik looks at his friends, looks at the fire, burning, always burning, and then he looks at the sky, at the canopy of trees.

Something burns and he feels a tightness in his heart, a pain in his chest.

The sky, once deep blue, now is turning orange.

And Wonshik forgets, but he can’t do that.

So, there’s the burning, deep inside of him, and the pain, always the pain.

Suddenly, Wonshik is bleeding, the beautiful crown damaging him. The red drops of blood falling from his forehead and hitting the moist ground. For every drop, a red rose blooms.

It’s magic and madness.

It’s summer.

A cry echoes again, he must run now, he must… he must do something, get to a place, somewhere.

The ruby, red just like his blood, is burning.

Suddenly, every noise stops and everyone turns to look at him.

Wonshik gets up.

“I need to go,” he says, dizzy, confused, scared.

The wind blows, and with it his white cape.

The others look at him quizzically, but it’s Hakyeon who speaks:

“Go where Wonshik? You can’t simply leave.”

It’s because of the madness and the wine that he jolts away, getting inside the forest swiftly, running and running. Never looking back.

A song of joy and death echoes all around.

He runs and runs, falling and stumbling, hurting his hands, dirtying his white clothes.

It’s summer and Wonshik can’t see a way out.

Until the sky gets bloodied red and he knows he failed. Failed the forest, his friends and his lover.

Taekwoon.

If it’s _for love_ …

Wonshik keeps running, night time falling on his back, the whispers and the hands and everything coming back all at once, but even then, he goes forward. There’s blood falling from his forehead and clouding his eyes, the burning of the ruby on his hands, the aching of his heart.

But it’s summer and there’s love somewhere.

Wonshik only stops when he finds himself at the promised place from his nightmares, the top of the mountain, the end of the forest.

He gasps for air, knowing he’s all dirty from sweat and mud and blood.

And it’s impossible to know how much time had passed since he had started running, but the full moon is already high up in the sky, creating shadows everywhere; and sure, when Wonshik looks closely at the destined place, he sees four shadows there, each one holding a candle.

It downs upon him then, everything that had happened so far.

It’s for love and it’s for blood, of course.

With a final sigh, he takes slow steps towards the figures.

There’s a circle on the ground, drawn in white chalk, and each figure stands on each cardinal point. Wonshik knows that because the forest also knows.

He enters the circle, the candles flickering, the moon blessing him from above, and then he kneels on the ground, knowing that that’s what he’s supposed to do.

Each figure turns to him, making it possible for Wonshik to recognize their faces: right where the sun sets is Hakyeon, in all his blue glory, soft tears streaming down his beautiful face; looking ahead, Wonshik sees the impassible face of Sanghyuk, eyes closed, one hand holding the candle and the other holding all the flowers from spring; on the other side, right across Hakyeon, there’s Hongbin, sweet and soft Hongbin, looking directly into Wonshik’s soul, judging; and finally, behind him there’s the most prominent light of all, the fierce face of Jaehwan, smiling, always smiling, his candle burning a lot faster than the others.

And then, there’s silence. The looming, treacherous silence.

He hears his heavy breaths and only that, until there’s a crack, the sound of footsteps and oh –

Wonshik expects. He expects shadows and darkness and everything in between.

What he doesn’t expect is the person who’s entering the circle, all dressed in black.

The black eyes.

And the silver hair, shining just like the moon.

“Taek?”

His lover gives him a glimpse of a smile.

“Hello, love.”

Wonshik lets that tiny word settle into his soul.

_for love for love_.

“So this is it?”

Taekwoon approaches him, calmly, but there’s desperation written all across his soft features. Wonshik notices he’s carrying a spear, gold and shiny, and he also feels the energy, the magic, revolving around them.

The circle lights up when Taekwoon is barely two-feet apart from Wonshik, and that’s the moment he hears everything again: Hakyeon sobbing, Sanghyuk muttering something, Jaehwan laughing madly and the soft hum coming from Hongbin. It’s everything at once, so overwhelming and uncontrollable Wonshik can’t do much but to close his eyes.

“Wonshik,” he hears Taekwoon say softly. “Do you trust me?”

_Of course, always, forever_ , Wonshik thinks.

“I love you.” It’s what Wonshik says.

And it’s the magic, and summer, and the _intention_ , everything, bundled together, that makes Wonshik open his eyes again and look, truly look into the black eyes he had learned to love.

It’s for love.

With a final smile, Wonshik accepts his fate.

There’s a moment of stillness, a moment where everything stops, and then there it is.

Taekwoon’s spear pierces into his chest, right where his beating heart is at. And Wonshik feels everything, the blood rising on his throat and being spilled, the burning pain, his body falling and being captured by Taekwoon’s arms. He sees then, gold and white, the moon hovering above and Taekwoon’s black eyes, now tinted all gold, his tears – so many tears – falling right on Wonshik’s face.

And Wonshik hears, a cry – a far cry – until he notices it’s coming from him.

It’s all white and gold, until everything starts to fade.

He tries to fight, tries to say to Taekwoon some last words, but it’s too much, the weight of the spear, the weight of the _world_.

With a final gasp, Wonshik lets himself be immersed by the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh. 
> 
> I’m not gonna comment on _that_.
> 
> Anyways, one thing that I wanted to say is, did you guys notice what I did in there? I’ve been putting some hints since forever but I assigned each one of the boys an element. 
> 
> Hakyeon is water, which represents emotions and relationships, and that’s why he's placed in the West; 
> 
> Hyuk is earth, which is stability, security, and things from the material plane. Earth is placed in the North;
> 
> Hongbin is air, that is located in the East. Air means rational thinking, logic and destructive tendencies (lol??); 
> 
> Jaehwan is fire, obviously. Fire is the ruler of the South, fire is passion, creativity and courage altogether.
> 
> -
> 
> That’s it for today! I really don’t know when I will be able to post next (and last) chapter (but there's an epilogue somewhere too don't give up ok?), since I’m stuck with writing my master’s thesis and all, god bless my soul honestly. 
> 
> If you want to scream at me (or pls, send some love) you know where to find your beloved tttarkus!!
> 
> ━━☆⌒*. [twitter](https://twitter.com/tttarkus)


	21. Summer: the disappearance of Kim Wonshik

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow

Lee Hyejin was a proud young woman. She took pride in the things she did and in the things she was. And, with much love in her heart, she took pride in her career.

Since she was a little girl, Hyejin had been dreaming of becoming one of those badass heroines who save the world or solve those awfully complicated murder cases. Hyejin wanted that, and so she studied and worked hard, to become something similar to what she watched on TV every day.

If you think about it, one could say it was all her parents’ fault, since they were also obsessed with mysteries and murders and blood and gore.

But you can’t blame your parents for everything you do in life, and Hyejin knew better. It was in her veins and in her core, the hunger for knowledge, the thirst for solving puzzles.

And so, Lee Hyejin, at the tender age of twenty-four, after years of training and getting beaten and being told she was too weak for the job, finally managed to get a spot in one of the police stations of the city, as _assistant-investigator_.

⁂

The sounds of people typing on the old computers of the police station fill her ears as she enters the same building to which she comes every day, for another round of doing utterly boring work that consists in looking up files and writing reports for her lazy boss.

As she grabs her (necessary) cup of coffee and walks to her desk, waving here and there, she catches herself thinking that _this_ was not what she had in mind when she had applied for the job. She wanted action, she wanted compelling cases and chases. She wanted a _life_.

Hyejin got a boring desk work instead.

Granted, it did pay her bills. Plus, her job also came with a beautiful shining police badge, and overall it wasn’t that bad.

It was just boring.

Turning on her outdated computer, she glances at her boss’ office. Hyejin never knows when he’s there or not, or if he even does his work as he should, because he’s always up to going to places and, according to him, “ _solving important cases_.” But Hyejin is not a fool anymore, after a couple of months working under his wing, she knows better.

Nothing ever exciting happens at this police station anyway. The hardest and dangerous jobs are all sent to bigger, more efficient and specialized stations.

With a sigh, she starts to go through the pile of files on her desk, which makes one of those recurring thoughts reappear in her mind. In the end, she’s nothing more than a very competent secretary.

Another sigh, some whispers, and then Hyejin sees that her boss is finally arriving, at the 11:00 AM mark, as usual. Park Younghwan, widely known as Mr. Park, or, in the inner secretary circles, Mr. Handsome.

Hyejin is not affected by his looks, though. Prettiness is not something she really cares about, it’s not crucial in the long run, so why bother? However, everyone around seemed to actually care for it. And yeah, maybe Mr. Park could be called handsome if you squinted a little bit and removed his awful personality.

The first thing Mr. Park does – as always – is to go to Hyejin’s desk and inspect her work; usually he would start babbling about all those new cases that he has to solve and whatnot, which she would promptly ignore.

But today is different, the routine, the usual and normal – it doesn’t happen.

Mr. Park walks to Hyejin’s desk, looks at her in the eyes and says: “Ms. Lee, to my office please.”

And then he just… leaves, shutting his door with force.

Everyone in the office looks at her as if she just had murdered their loved ones and she feels herself blushing in embarrassment.

Taking a long deep breath, Hyejin gathers a paper and a pen and walks in the direction of her fate.

Is she going to be fired? Had her lousy personality finally gotten too much and people were tired of seeing her ugly face?

She opens the door with care, stepping in and trying not to make a sound. Mr. Park is already huffing behind his wooden desk, looking overly troubled. Hyejin’s heart peaks at seeing her usual carefree boss like that.

Something is changing.

“Lee,” he starts, not looking at her. “Have a seat please.”

She complies, trying to get comfortable in the very uncomfortable office chair. She looks at him, noticing his unkempt hair and dark circles under his eyes.

Unusual.

“What is it, Mr. Park?”

He blinks, “Well, you see… I need your help with this case.”

Her heart beats even faster. Finally! Finally!

“Oh,” she lets out. “What can I do to help you, sir?”

She doesn’t want to sound too eager, but it’s impossible to not feel bubbly inside when seconds ago she thought she was going to be fired.

Mr. Park finally sits on his chair, shuffling with his hands until they lay on some papers. He looks at her.

“It’s a disappearance case,” he says with some kind of heaviness. “Apparently it happened two years ago, but the family is only asking for help now.”

And that makes her eyes perk up. It’s not common for people to disappear for so long without the family going to the police.

“What happened?”

Mr. Park sighs, definitely looking worn out. He picks a golden pen and spins it in his hands, opting to look at the grey wall.

“I will send you the files, but in short, the man moved out of the city, went to live in some freakish small village in the mountains and never came back. It seems he was… uh…” He stops, looking at the pages on his desk, “He was a musician? I don’t know. It says here his last activity was posting an album on social media. That was roughly two years ago.”

He looks at the desk calendar and then at the files again.

“Yeah, the man posted the songs on the beginning of June 2019. So yeah, two years ago.”

“Oh, is there anything more about him?”

“Well, you will read the papers, right?” Mr. Park answers with a condescending tone. “Plus, the higher ups want us to go there this weekend.”

“What?”

“I know Lee, I know. It sucks. But we need to at least take a walk in this village or whatever, are you free? Can you go?”

Hyejin thinks back on all the plans she had for the weekend, which were none. And she also thinks about how she's loving every part of this case, too. Something interesting, something creepy, something she had always dreamed of being part of.

She smiles at Mr. Park, a genuine smile, picking the papers from his hands.

“Of course, I will study the case and try to find something more about this man.”

Mr. Park smiles back, a small, not so gentle thing, that tells Hyejin he’s probably not as excited for their little trip as she is.

But no one can stop her now.

She’s got a case.

⁂

Hyejin stays at her desk studying the files until the people from the day shift go home and the night ones come in, until the people from the night start to glare at her. And until one of the officers goes to her desk, placing his hands on it and looking at her with a _face_.

“Don’t you need to go home, miss?”

She hates it, hates how people can talk down at her, and she can do absolutely nothing in return.

“I was just about to go, sir…” she weakly replies.

“Good.”

But it’s no good, and Hyejin picks up the files and puts them in her bag, so she can study them further.

The thing is, it appears this is not just an average disappearance case. The man simply vanished without any explanation. It didn’t help that it took two years for someone to take notice of the disappearance.

Well, lucky for them she was a smart woman.

The moment Hyejin steps out in the streets, feeling the heat of a summer’s night that is yet to come, she starts to think about her case. The streets are overly packed, with people walking, talking and going in and out of bars. The city is alive, and so is Hyejin. She walks fast in the direction of her small and lonely apartment, wanting to bury herself in work. _Her_ case.

With shaking hands, she manages to open the heavy door that leads to the sad apartment she calls ‘home.’ But it isn’t a home, it isn’t anything, really. It’s just a place to sleep and shower.

She doesn’t think much about it, though, quickly grabbing the papers and her notes and looking at it.

She reads it to herself, just to organize her thoughts:

_Kim Wonshik, born in 1993, disappeared in 2019 at the age of twenty-six. Date of disappearance: unknown. Last seen in town – allegedly – by his father, in the same month he stopped posting on social media. Graduated in business administration in 2014, worked at a few tech companies, never stayed more than a couple of months. Published and produced some songs, going by the name “_ Ravi. _” His last publication made quite a fuss on 2019, going up on the national charts._

At that Hyejin stops, trying to remember that year and what was playing on the radio at that time – a useless task, since she was not found of music, much less rap or hip-hop or whatever.

Nonetheless, an idea arises. It could lead to nothing, or to some kind of clue. She doesn’t know, but honestly, at this hour of the night it’s not like her brain will work something out.

She types fast on her phone, trying to find this album Kim Wonshik released.

His page on Spotify displays a picture of the man, looking rough and nothing like the pictures she has in her folder. She hums to herself, scrolling to get the ‘latest release’ which is not latest at all. The cover of the album says nothing to her, only a black background with a white dot in the left corner. No words, nothing. It could be odd, but Hyejin doesn’t want to go around judging album covers or anything like that. She isn’t a specialist.

She presses play and waits.

The first song starts heavy, and it’s almost unbearable to hear it – for Hyejin at least. It talks about fear and pain and _hands_ that lurk in the shadows.

However, she listens to it all. As the album progresses, there’s a change; it starts with fear and anger, craziness almost. And then… something shifts near the half of it, making Hyejin able to breathe again. In one particular song, Kim Wonshik’s – no, it’s Ravi here, not Kim Wonshik – lyrics talk about someone who shines so brightly it makes the dark nights feel okay again, but it’s so weird at the same time, because even if the song says ‘she’, Hyejin has a feeling it’s not actually a woman.

That’s interesting, and she makes a pause to write it down.

What could possibly make Kim Wonshik so entailed to write a whole song about silver lights and silver hair, given that he was living in the middle of nowhere?

She presses play again, expecting.

The last half of the album is completely different, and that takes her off-guard, makes her shiver despite herself. And maybe, just maybe, that was the reason it got so popular.

It’s so beautiful, _gorgeous_ even, with soft melodies entwined with Wonshik’s deep voice… Hyejin gets overwhelmed.

Until the last song.

The last song talks about a forest, a river. The whole thing _sounds_ like a metaphor for feelings, a stream of emotions. But, at the same time, she feels like Wonshik is singing about a real river, too. Hyejin can almost see it in front of her eyes, beautiful, wild and terrifying.

When the song is finally ending, she can hear piano keys being softly pressed, a low chuckle in the background. The sound of a kiss.

It’s too much, way too much for her weak heart, and, before she notices, there are tears running down her eyes.

_What did Kim Wonshik experience in that town?_ She asks herself.

_What did he see?_

⁂

It’s a blur of days where Hyejin learns everything she can about the man named Kim Wonshik and the small village where he chose to disappear. She gets to a point where she actually dreams about a _forest_ , with big trees and muddy paths, and with a man beside her, too tall, too dark. Strange.

Still, she doesn’t have a single clue.

Or, at least she has one.

The village in the mountains, the odd place where, after researching old police reports, she finds out about the number of disappearances.

At first, the police investigated, but the missing cases dated back to so long ago, years and years, centuries even – if one report could be trusted – that in the end they had just given up.

And yet, there were at least two incidents per year. One in the middle and one at the end.

By her calculations, the period when Wonshik went missing matched with the disappearance of the middle of the year.

Still, that wasn’t a logical explanation.

But she doesn’t have time to think much, because sooner than later, she finds herself entering the old police car with her boss and taking the big long road to the one place she had started to fear.

⁂

The trip is uneventful, a couple of hours spent in silence, with Mr. Park humming to whatever song plays on the radio. Until static starts to fill the songs and until they are obligated to turn the radio off altogether. Then it’s just silence.

Which doesn’t help to ease Hyejin’s crippling anxiety, rising and rising to the point where she can feel her hands shake when they finally reach the small city.

When the car enters the main streets of the city, Hyejin sees every corner empty of people, all the shops and restaurants closed. It feels like a ghost town of sorts, and she shivers.

She can feel Mr. Park’s uneasiness too, coming in the form of taps on the wheel and fidgeting with the car keys.

But maybe the explanation is because it’s the weekend.

“Do you see any stores open?”

Hyejin stares outside, their car going slow, with the heat of the summer’s sun burning through the windows.

“No sir,” she replies. “But we could try parking somewhere, maybe we could ask some passerby.”

Mr. Park gives a low chuckle devoid of any humor, but he parks the car anyway. It’s easy to see how insecure he feels, and it’s such a new side of him, Hyejin almost stops to marvel at that fact.

However, a sign catches her attention.

“Look, sir! There’s a grocery store there.” She points at the right corner where, undoubtedly, a small store is located.

Mr. Park looks at Hyejin with pleading eyes.

“Get us some water bottles and see if you can ask where’s the police station. I think it’s best if we begin there.”

He handles her a couple of bills, without looking at her eyes.

_He’s afraid._

But of what?

There isn’t a single sound when Hyejin walks towards the grocery store’s door, and that is creepier than any horror movie she has ever seen.

It’s wrong and odd, in so many ways.

The door slides smoothly, and the puff of cold air and the smell of dust, horses and old heated food envelops her, together with a foreign song playing on the speakers.

To be fair, the store looks like any other grocery store. Maybe a little bit on the eccentric side, given the strange products on the shelves, but the place is small, and she quickly finds her way to the register.

And maybe what she finds is the cherry on top of the oddness of the whole place.

The man standing there is as tall as he’s pretty, which is a lot. That makes Hyejin blush despite herself, because the man gives her a smile and asks if she needs any help.

_All of it_ , she wants to answer.

But she ends up with: “Uh, where do you have water?”

The man grins, making her forget for a few seconds about the investigation and all.

“The fridge is on the left corner there,” the man points and Hyejin nods, walking to the given direction.

In the moment she’s picking the bottles, the bell of the store rings, and, surprisingly, Hyejin hears the voice of her boss echoing through the aisles. She rushes back to the register.

“Sir, I was just going back,” she tries to explain.

Mr. Park looks at her with one raised eyebrow, and then at the man still behind the counter.

“You were taking too long.”

She opens her mouth to reply, to say it only took her three minutes at most, but she refrains. Something feels out of place, and her instincts tell that it’s best to not voice it out.

While lost in thought, Mr. Park and Grocery Store Guy start to chat; she picks up half of the conversation while Grocery Store Guy scans the water bottles.

“The police station? You need to take a left and then a right, and then go for about… huh… two hundred meters? I don’t know exactly, but it’s not far from here.”

“Right, right,” Mr. Park replies, not actually paying attention, motioning for Hyejin to write it down.

She does, and she also remembers to ask another thing.

“Oh, do you perhaps know why the other stores are closed?”

Grocery Store Guy grins at them, showing teeth and amusement.

“You guys must be from very far away, it’s the _festival_.”

Mr. Park laughs, “Can you get me a pack of Marlboro light please?”

Grocery Store Guy nods, turning to fetch the cigarettes.

“What kind of festival? I’m not aware of any holy day this time of the year.”

“Well,” Grocery Store Guy starts. “It’s a tradition for us here in the countryside, the summer festival.”

Hyejin takes the water bottles and puts in her bag, watching as her boss opens the cigarette box. And it’s the mundane way of the action, and the way Grocery Store Guy starts to look at them with an inquiring look, that makes Hyejin take action.

“Hey, huh, can we ask you some questions…?”

Mr. Park looks at her in disbelief, but in the end, they’re here to investigate, aren’t they?

Grocery Store Guy nods, “You are officers, right? You can call me Han Sanghyuk.”

Hyejin tries to smile, but it feels fake, while Mr. Park just shakes Sanghyuk’s hands.

“How did you know?” He asks.

“Well, she’s wearing her badge for everyone to see,” Sanghyuk points at her chest and sure, the thing is _right there_ , but it wasn’t supposed to be, she’s almost sure she wouldn’t commit that kind of rookie mistake.

Mr. Park places one hand on her shoulder and laughs again.

“She’s my assistant.”

Sanghyuk only nods and waits, which just makes the situation more awkward for her, with her boss also waiting for whatever she wanted to ask.

“You see, Mr. Han,” she tries to be polite, remembering her old training days. “We’re investigating a disappearance case of a man who supposedly lived here two years ago.”

She sees Sanghyuk’s eyes widening for just a fraction of a second before they’re back to normal. It’s almost nothing, it could be anything – really. But Hyejin makes a mental note about _that_.

“Well, two years ago is a long time isn’t it?”

Mr. Park scoffs, “I know, but the family only acted now, and that’s why we’re here. Anyway, were you around here two years ago? Working? Remember the faces?”

“Yes…”

Hyejin catches the way Sanghyuk’s eyes go from left to right quickly. He’s _thinking_. He could be trying to find it in his memories something, but it’s an odd action given that they haven’t shown him Wonshik’s picture yet.

“We’re trying to find a man named Kim Wonshik,” Hyejin says, grabbing the case’s folder and picking out Wonshik’s ID picture. “Do you remember someone like this?”

Sanghyuk looks at the picture, but not a single emotion shows on his face. He blinks and shakes his head.

“I don’t remember him.”

And the strangest thing is, his actions corroborate with what he’s saying. Or, he’s a pretty good actor. Either way, Hyejin knows there’s nothing they can do at the moment, so she just nods.

“Thank you, Mr. Han.”

Mr. Park shakes his hand and motions for them to leave.

But Sanghyuk speaks again, only for Hyejin to hear:

“You should talk to Jaehwan about this, he’s our chief police officer here, but you won’t find him at the station,” he blinks, looking at the ceiling. “He’s probably drinking right now… but anyway, you should go to this bar here.”

Sanghyuk quickly writes the directions on a piece of paper and hands it to Hyejin.

It’s a turn of events, but a good one, nonetheless.

“Thank you,” she says again.

He only smiles at her, but it doesn’t look like a smile at all.

Hyejin quickly leaves, trying to find her boss who’s already outside.

⁂

“Sir,” Hyejin says, catching up with her boss.

Mr. Park is leaning on their car, already lighting a cigarette. She never knew he was a smoker, but apparently, she doesn’t know many things about him. Like the way he looks _lost_ , young and desperate here out in the field. Hyejin almost asks what’s wrong. But there are more pressing matters at hand, and the sun is piercing through them, through their clothes, making her sweat in all the uncomfortable places.

“He gave me directions to a bar, he said we will probably find the chief there. It seems that, because of this festival, we won’t have much luck in the station.”

Mr. Park looks at her, “I don’t like this city, Lee, there’s something wrong in here, I can feel it.”

He drags the smoke right to his lungs and Hyejin grimaces at the smell.

“Well, we need to at least try something before we go back.”

“I know,” he exhales.

The sun is still merciless, burning their shoulders, when Hyejin finally speaks:

“Let’s go to this bar, at least we can order a beer or something.”

⁂

They walk side by side in the empty streets, following the rough directions Sanghyuk had written. And soon enough, they start to see movement and people here and there; children dressed in all white with flowers in their hair, women laughing, men chatting.

Soon, soon, there’s _life_ in front of them, and they find themselves in front of the mentioned bar.

The place is packed, every table occupied with groups cheering and drinking. The decoration is made of candles and white cloths, together with golden straps hanging from the ceiling. It’s odd, but not in a bad way.

Hyejin, trying to act quick and smart, decides to go to the bar’s counter. She doesn’t see anyone wearing a police uniform, but that’s not a problem.

They’re _investigators_ , for god’s sake, they should be asking questions and finding clues.

Mr. Park sits in one free stool and looks hopelessly at the shelves filled with bottles of alcohol.

It seems like she will have to do all the work here.

With a sigh, she raises her hand, trying to catch the bartender’s attention, which, given how inexperienced she is with bars, it happens pretty fast.

“Hello miss, what can I do to help you?”

Hyejin stares at the brightening smile and at the dimples first, then, after a couple of seconds of nothing, she just points at her boss.

“Uh, I think he wants something to drink.”

The bartender gives her another smile.

“What about you?”

Mr. Park intervenes right in, slurring his words together, but voicing it out in a way both Hyejin and the bartender can hear the word ‘beer.’

_What the hell is happening with Mr. Park?_ She wonders, a little taken aback. It seems like the man is getting wholly drained and it’s just so… out of character.

Before the bartender goes, she catches the ends of his shirt’s sleeve.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” she starts.

The bartender looks at her with eyes that are definitely not kind, and she retreats.

“It’s just, we’re police officers, we’re here on an investigation,” Hyejin whispers and the man raises one eyebrow. “The guy from the grocery store, Han Sanghyuk, he said we could find the chief here, a man named Jaehwan? Can you help us out?”

There’s no trace of a smile on the bartender’s face when he speaks, and his serious tone makes Hyejin _fear_ something.

“What are you investigating?”

But before she can start explaining, the bartender’s attention is requested elsewhere, and so Hyejin has to wait.

Mr. Park leans on her and whispers: “Be careful okay? Let’s play the act of being rookies. I can sense something wrong in this city.”

_Oh_ , she thinks, _so that’s what he’s doing._

The bartender is back, and Mr. Park plays his act, grabbing the beer and drinking it quite obnoxiously.

Hyejin doesn’t know how much of that is just an act, though.

“You’re looking for Jaehwan,” the bartender states.

“Yes, it’s a disappearance case,” she starts, side-eyeing her boss. “The man lived here two years ago, we just want to know what he did, if anyone here knew him. Nothing much.”

The bartender hums, “You do know we have lots of missing cases, right?”

Hyejin can’t help but frown, of course they know it, but that doesn’t mean they should just leave it at that.

“Well, yes. We still need to do our jobs.”

She hears Mr. Park chuckling by her side, and they probably look like incompetent beginners. Maybe that’s why the bartender gives in, Hyejin hopes it is.

“Jae is upstairs. But please, don’t mess around, we don’t like intruders in our city.”

And with that, the man walks towards them, leading them to a small wooden door at the end of the bar that Hyejin didn’t notice before.

The bartender opens the door and Hyejin can only see darkness.

“You can go up, and then take the first door to the left.”

Hyejin looks at the stairs in front of her, and she shivers.

⁂

They go up and up, on the endless flight of stairs, with only their phone’s flashlights illuminating the way. It wasn’t supposed to take this long. Hyejin didn’t remember the building being tall like this. Everything about the situation screams at her that she should be running away.

But, Hyejin is not a quitter. And right after you pass the raw fear she’s feeling, there’s the adrenaline, the excitement. Hyejin loves it.

Unfortunately, that can’t be said about Mr. Park.

She spots her boss trembling beside her, and, with some sort of resolution, she motions for them to stop.

“Sir, what’s the matter?”

“Can’t you feel it, Lee? The _hands_?”

Hyejin blinks.

“The what? Don’t be creepy.”

“Lee,” Mr. Park says with an urgent tone. “We need to get away, this isn’t safe, this isn’t _normal_.”

She controls the urge to slap him in the face, forcing herself to keep listening.

“You know, I never wanted this, this job. It isn’t for me. I stay at the station doing paperwork because that’s what I’m good for. Let’s go back, Lee, please, let’s just say we failed, and it will be alright.”

Hyejin takes a deep breath.

“Younghwan,” she says carefully, it being her first time calling him by his first name. “Why did you accept the job then?”

He shakes his head, “I was trying to look for reasons not to quit, I thought this would be good to see the other side of the job. Now here we are.”

That makes her want to cry. By the gods, they’re so freaking _lost_ in this.

“Let’s… let’s just go up okay? We can do this.”

Mr. Park nods, placing one hand on Hyejin’s shoulders, and they begin to walk again.

After that, it doesn’t take long for them to reach a corridor, and sure, right on the door to the left, they hear voices.

It’s with some kind of relief that Hyejin knocks three times before it’s being opened by a man dressed in all blues and sporting a frown.

“Yes?”

Hyejin tries to keep her calm, “Hi, sorry to interrupt, we’re looking for Officer Jaehwan?”

Blue stares at her, “And why are you looking for him? Who sent you here?”

She feels Mr. Park’s hands tightening on her shoulders, and she takes a deep breath.

“The bartender downstairs. We’re officers too.” She shuffles for her badge, finding it inside her bag – _where it was supposed to be, in the first place_.

Blue hums, muttering something under his breath that sounds like a curse, but he opens the door anyway, giving them the view of a clean and brightly lit room, stuffed with potted plants and wooden furniture. An apartment, it seems.

The smell of incense and smoke fills her nose, and it’s so strong her eyes almost start to water.

They step in a little further, following Blue to a room with a couch and some chairs, two other men seated there, chatting.

The view could be normal if it weren’t for their outfits: one covered in red fabrics that seems like silk, like fire; and the other wearing all black, matching with his shiny black hair and black eyeliner.

“Hakyeon, who are these people?” Red says, staring at them with amusement.

Blue, whose name is probably Hakyeon, huffs.

“Our bright Hongbin sent them, they’re the police, and they’re also looking for you.”

Red clasps his hands and waves for them to sit on the chairs in front of him, a bright smile on his face.

“Oh, my fellow police officers, what can I help you with, on this bright day of summer?” Red says enthusiastically, but Hyejin can feel the undertones of sarcasm.

They sit, and Mr. Park fidgets with her bag until she clears her throat.

It’s Hyejin by herself here.

She notices how Black stares at her, piercing and unkind. His features are unlike anything she ever saw, almost feline. She feels herself getting even more nervous.

“Are you Jaehwan?”

Red, who, obviously, is Officer Jaehwan nods: “Yes yes, that’s me.”

“So, we’re investigating a missing case,” she repeats for what seems like the hundredth time. “A man who disappeared from this city two years ago.”

Jaehwan widens his eyes and Black shakes his head, the strands of his hair falling on his face. In the meantime, Blue – _Hakyeon_ – enters the room with a tray of cups.

“Anyone wants some tea?” Hakyeon chirps in.

Mr. Park mutters a ‘ _yes’_ and Hyejin only focuses on Jaehwan.

“We were hoping you could tell us about this man, what he was doing here, if he talked to you. That kind of stuff.”

“Two years is a long time, there are always people coming and going, you know, since it’s kind of a touristic city.”

Hakyeon and Black nod at Jaehwan, but Hyejin knows better.

Something is amiss. Sure, the officer is on an off-day, but that’s not how you answer the police, even if you are part of it.

“I know that,” she replies. “And I also know your city has a big number of disappearances. We’re just trying to do our work here. The man’s name is Kim Wonshik.”

She fishes for Wonshik’s picture on her pursue, not before noticing how the three men exchange glances. Nervous glances.

“Do you know him?” She hands the picture to Jaehwan.

She observes the moment Jaehwan takes the picture, how Black leans on him, almost getting on top of the officer; she also takes notice of the small, soft smile that appears on both of their faces before it disappears. Black turns to Hyejin, staring at her with icy cold eyes.

“No,” Jaehwan says, giving Hyejin the picture back. “Don’t remember him, are you sure he was here? There are other cities nearby.”

She hears Black chuckling at that, and it sounds so _familiar_.

“Are you sure?” She tries. “Because the last address he gave to his family pointed to a house in this city, up in the mountains. Some cabin. He probably stayed during winter 2018 through spring of 2019.”

Jaehwan, Hakyeon and Black stare at her, at the same time Mr. Park places the teacup on the table.

But it’s Black who speaks first, in a soft, and yet rude voice: “Why are you looking for Wonshik now?”

“Why do you ask?” She retorts.

Mr. Park places a hand on her tights, trying to tell her to stop.

“Now now, as you know, today is a celebration day, let’s not get our emotions up, right?” Jaehwan says this to Black, and then: “If you want, tomorrow we can go through my files back in the station. Today I can’t do much, I’m sorry.”

“But then we will have to spend the night here.” Mr. Park complains, mostly to Hyejin.

It’s Hakyeon, all blues and smiles, who clasps his hands and gets up.

“Do you have the address of the house? I could give you a ride there, all the houses on the mountain are unoccupied now.”

It’s odd, how suddenly they became so… cooperative.

“And you happen to have the keys to all the houses there?”

Hakyeon looks surprised for a second before he’s back to his commercial smile. It’s all a façade, and Hyejin knows, can feel it. But why, she doesn’t know.

“Of course, yes. I’m the housekeeper of the house in the mountain after all.”

Or, maybe Hyejin is just paranoid. Which is part of her job.

She gets up.

“Okay then, let’s go there.”

Mr. Park bows to Jaehwan and Black, saying a small ‘thank you’ and exchanging some words, and soon he’s following Hyejin and Hakyeon out of the door.

⁂

Hakyeon guides them outside the bar to a truck, an old, big thing covered in dry mud. The sun is still burning and shining, so they have time. Few words are exchanged between Mr. Park and Hakyeon, and Hyejin gets to the backseat, wanting to take a moment to just _think_.

It’s understandable how no one remembers Wonshik. Two years is quite some time. And if he was the loner type, it made sense. Still… something doesn’t sit right.

As Hakyeon turns the engines of the truck on and starts to drive, up and up on a muddy road, she observes the forest passing through the window, big trees and green leaves. The sight is beautiful and terrifying. It makes her remember how many people disappeared inside those woods, it makes her remember those sweet songs Wonshik created.

Hyejin remembers about the river song, the softness.

Something _definitely_ happened here.

⁂

When Hakyeon parks the truck in front of a big house, all bricks and thick wood, Hyejin can’t help but let out a gasp of wonder.

It’s nothing like what she expected, but the address matched with the one who was given by Wonshik’s mother, and Hakyeon seems pretty legit when he opens the door to the house and starts to show the rooms.

Every furniture is covered in white sheets.

“To not catch dust, you know?”

It’s what Hakyeon says.

But Hyejin has other questions.

“Who’s the owner?”

“Ah,” Hakyeon sighs. “It’s Lady Min, but she’s too old to come here; back then she would just hire someone to take care of the house until summer. Maybe that was Wonshik’s job.”

She squints, writing it all down on a notepad.

“Are you sure you don’t remember Kim Wonshik?”

He opens one door, leading them to a kitchen. Mr. Park is nowhere to be seen. He probably stayed outside or entered some other room.

“Well, if I did, I would have told you. I’m not a fan of breaking the law.”

Hyejin can’t help but chuckle at that, “It’s not breaking the law if we don’t have a warrant, which we don’t. But it’s alright. Thank you for your honesty.”

Hakyeon smiles at her, and now it seems genuine enough.

And it’s probably that openness that makes her voice out one of her thoughts:

“Hey, can you tell me about this festival? I’ve never seen anything like that.”

He looks surprised for a moment, but his gentle smile never wavers, and he turns his back to her for the first time, opening a cabinet and grabbing a box of tea.

“Do you want some tea?”

She doesn’t, but she nods all the same.

It’s only when the water is already boiling in the kettle that the conversation resumes again:

“Why are you interested?”

“I’m just curious,” she replies with ease, gazing at the yellow walls of the kitchen.

In the background, she can almost hear a song. It’s probably Mr. Park in the car, but it seems odd.

Out of place.

She looks at Hakyeon.

“Our winters are very harsh in here, we depend a lot on our own plantations, so it’s the tradition to thank the summer god for another year.”

“Is it a very old tradition?”

“Yes.”

Hakyeon stops to get the tea, giving a nice cup of it to Hyejin.

She still doesn’t drink it.

The song she’s been hearing starts to get louder.

“Nowadays we also thank another god… well, it’s not an actual god, but it’s holy for us.”

That grabs her attention, she sips the tea only out of politeness and waits for Hakyeon to continue.

“The legends once said our forest was cursed, but it’s not, I assure you,” he pauses. “However, we had the disappearances, as you are aware. But they stopped to happen after a while. The tales say it was a golden knight who unmade the curse. This is one of our bedtime stories for the kids, you know? The shiny golden knight saving our city from the curse. And we also celebrate that at summer’s festival.”

“That’s… different.”

Hakyeon laughs, loudly and carefree.

“It actually helps to make people stay away from the forest. God knows how many times we suffered because of people vanishing.”

Hyejin shivers.

“You said it isn’t cursed,” she stares out the window, right at the woods. “Do you really believe it?”

“Sometimes,” he replies, sounding sorrowful, sad. Hyejin can almost grasp some truth in there.

“Do you think Kim Wonshik decided one day to have a walk through the forest and never came back?”

And sure, as those words leave her mouth, it’s like a realization dawns upon her.

Kim Wonshik _did it_ , not only once, but several times. The songs… his lyrics. It was there.

“I don’t know about Kim Wonshik.”

Hyejin can hear the lie in that phrase, and Hakyeon also knows she knows.

But it’s still bright outside, and she does have an idea now.

She rushes through the kitchen’s door, leaving a stunned Hakyeon and an almost untouched cup of tea behind.

⁂

The house corridors pass in a blur, all whites and greys. Hyejin only stops when she’s almost at the front door, her hands grabbing the doorknob with force. But she stops, because there’s a sound coming from one of the rooms nearby, a tune, out of place and time in this house covered by dust and white sheets.

She turns to her right, facing a room with full open windows, so different from every other corner of the house, and, just there, just in front of her, she can see Mr. Park staring at an old brown piano.

Hyejin can’t help but stay very very still, observing.

Mr. Park, so carefully, raises one of his hands, only to press one piano key down. The sound is clear, as if the thing wasn’t so old.

And that’s the moment Mr. Park turns to her, wide eyed.

“I think,” he begins, unsure. “I think this is weird, why is this piano the only thing that is uncovered? Why does it seem so old but so new? There’s not even dust on it. Lee, I think this could be a clue.”

He sounds out of breath, lost in the madness of trying to find something amidst the chaos they were brought right in.

Hyejin only stares, remembering Wonshik’s songs – _Ravi_ ’s songs. Towards the end of the album, there were some melodies with piano. Maybe, just maybe, this was a clue.

The logical part of her brain tells her it’s impossible. Hakyeon probably likes to play the piano in his free time, or it was left forgotten there.

And yet, she also knows that’s not right.

A shiver runs down her body, and she sees Mr. Park opening his mouth in surprise.

Hakyeon is just behind her, trying to grab her wrist, her arm. Anything. And he’s saying, in such a calm, cold tone, so different from before: “You weren’t supposed to enter that room.”

But she runs.

She runs outside and runs to the forest, with Hakyeon on her tow.

It’s a dumb move, and she knows it. But it’s not like she has any other options here, so, she runs, entering the forest and never looking back because if she does, she knows she will not be able to keep going.

The twigs and branches scratch her face and arms, and she stumbles on rocks and roots; even then, she keeps going, not hearing anything but not daring to stop either.

And, in the meantime, her mind starts to work.

The actions of all the people she spoke to were very suspicious from the start, and it was understandable until a certain point. However, some kind of inner instinct tells her that those people were the reason Kim Wonshik disappeared. The people from the city, those guys she talked to. Jaehwan and Hakyeon, probably. They were part of this.

She remembers Hakyeon’s little tale, the curse, the festival.

They were probably some sorts of cultists. Hyejin knows there are some groups like that, scattered through the country, killing people for sacrifices and shit.

God.

She finally stops to look at her surroundings.

The forest engulfs everything she looks at, and there’s no noise, no movement, as if it was waiting for something.

Fear starts to cripple in again, making her hands shake, body tremble, and the sun is still high up in the sky.

Taking deep breaths, she fetches her phone from out of her pocket, grimacing at the ‘no signal’ icon.

In hindsight, it was a terrible idea. She probably should have stayed, talking it out with Hakyeon. Now she’s alone, _lost_ , in a forest in the middle of nowhere.

Perfect bait for cultists who enjoy sacrificing people.

Hyejin curses, to the trees and to the forest, but mostly to herself.

And then, she just gives up, sitting right below a tall tree and staring at the blue skies.

⁂

It takes some time – and no time at all – for the blue to turn orange, pink, and then red. Red just like the anger of a bonfire.

Hyejin only stares, waiting for her fate.

And it doesn’t take long at all for the red to turn a deep dark blue, almost black. Black, just like the harshness of winters.

She’s probably delirious at this point, when, with no illumination left, no sound, nothing, she sees a light that seems to come from some kind of torch. But it isn’t fire, or, at least, it doesn’t seem to be.

Hyejin only waits.

The light gets closer, illuminating the trees nearby, making her able to see her surroundings once more.

The light is golden and hot, just like love on a summer’s day.

But there’s still something missing in that equation, something that Hyejin knows it’s important.

Footsteps approach her, and she sees first white and gold, until she cranes her neck up expecting.

The _thing_ that stares back at her is not –

It can’t –

Hyejin wants to scream, but there’s no voice left, and sure, what she thought was a torch is actually a golden spear, shining all over.

Some things weren’t supposed to exist, to be real.

But the _thing_ in front of her sure does, with its silver hair and bronze skin, smiling as if knowing her thoughts.

And that smile is just so similar to the one in the many pictures she has about her case.

“It’s okay,” the _thing_ says, and it sounds just like Kim Wonshik sounded, voice deep and welcoming. “Death is not the end.”

Hyejin doesn’t want that, doesn’t want to die. She wants to keep living.

Hyejin wants to do all the things she never cared about. She wants to spend money on frivolous things like makeup and clothes; she wants to make friends and share stories; she wants to walk down the beach one more time and feel the sea on her feet. Hyejin wants many things, but she also wants to experience what it is to be _in love_.

So, Hyejin starts crying, and the _thing_ stops abruptly, spear already midair.

Shouts are coming from somewhere, and lights that probably are generated by electricity and batteries illuminate the nearest trees.

Soon, soon, Mr. Park is coming out of the bushes, looking disheveled and beaten up, shouting to the _thing_ something unintelligible, and pointing his gun at it.

Hyejin is in such a daze she can’t understand much, she hears shots, a laugh, and then the smell of blood and iron hits her hard, together with something that she’s almost sure is called _magic_.

And then a bloody hand comes into her view, caressing her face.

“It seems like your friend decided to give his life to you, Lee Hyejin, please honor it.”

But she can’t reply, she can’t move or do anything. The darkness envelops her completely.

⁂

Birds are singing outside, and that’s what makes Hyejin turn in bed and open one eye, watching the sunlight come in from the open window. She only sees the blue sky and green leaves.

Weird.

She turns in bed, staring at the white wall and white furniture that definitely doesn’t belong in her apartment. A headache cripples in, making her groan. It feels like a hangover, and at the same time, not. But it’s impossible to think much because it hurts. She can’t _remember_ what happened, or why she is in this strange room instead of her bedroom.

She hears only the birds, until there’s knocking on the door, and she lets out a weak ‘come in.’ It’s weird, she feels like she’s in a hospital of sorts but why would she be in one? What happened?

A strange man comes in, looking nothing like a doctor, and he seats at the edge of the bed, a heavy look on his dark eyes.

“Are you okay?”

Hyejin looks at the man, trying to remember where she knows him from. His face is familiar, like those kinds of faces you see in a dream, again and again.

“Who are you?”

The man chuckles, “Oh my, it seems like it was a great shock. Don’t you remember anything from yesterday?”

Hyejin tries – really hard – to reach her memories, but everything is still a big blur. She shakes her head.

“Okay,” the man starts. “Let’s start from the beginning, you’re Lee Hyejin, an assistant investigator. You came to this city to try to find clues about a missing case of a man named Kim Wonshik. Do you remember that?”

As the man talks, images of herself studying the case appear in her mind, together with the memories of the trip. Then, she remembers her boss, and sorrow engulfs her entire being.

“Mr. Park…?” She interrupts the man, “Where is he?”

“Oh.”

Silence settles between them, and she moves on the bed, straightening herself and getting face to face with the man.

“Where is he?”

A shadow crosses the man’s eyes.

“That’s the point I was getting at. He – he just went mad, I was showing the house to you and him, everything was going fine, but he decided to run to the forest. Heat madness, probably.”

Hyejin can’t recall that, in fact, she has no recollection of anything other than arriving at the city.

Her head spins.

“Is he okay?”

The man sighs heavily, “No. Ms. Lee, please, we tried. Don’t you remember? We tried to find him, but it was impossible, and soon night came, and we went to the police station to seek help, a searching party was designated for this and. Well.” A pause, the man shakes his head, hiding his eyes on his hands. “They found a body, his body.”

The words settle in, making Hyejin want to throw up.

“What?”

“I’m sorry.”

The man’s voice comes out strangled as if he’s almost crying. But Hyejin feels nothing other than pain, in her body and mind.

“I don’t understand.”

“We already contacted your station, everyone knows about the incident. It’s all okay. Again, I’m sorry, _We_ ’re sorry.”

He gets up, going slowly towards the door, his business clearly finished here.

But not for Hyejin.

“Wait! You never told me who you are, or how Mr. Park died.”

She thinks she sees amusement crossing the man’s eyes, but she isn’t sure.

“Do you really need to know those things?”

“I –”

But before she can properly reply, the man steps out of the room, leaving Hyejin alone with the cruel reality of _life_.

⁂

It takes a couple of hours for Hyejin to finally feel like she’s able to get out of bed and just run away from this place. She quickly sees a bag with clothes – not her own, but that fit her perfectly – and a small note with only a ‘sorry’ written in terrible handwriting.

Then, she gets out of the room and discovers that she is, in fact, in a hotel of sorts. The staff is polite to her and, apparently, they had instructions to guide her outside and to the police car.

Her mind is still fuzzy, and she can’t, for the life of her, remember what exactly happened in between the moment she and Mr. Park stepped out of this damn car and the moment she woke up.

Oh, Mr. Park…

Before she notices, tears are falling down her face, and she can’t control them. The numbness she was feeling completely disappears, only to give way to the complete and utter sorrow of a loss.

She lets herself feel, bawling her eyes out in the middle of the streets just like a child, she deserves it, at least.

But, Hyejin doesn’t cry for long. With her blurred vision, she sees a man approaching her, familiar features, a bouquet of blue flowers on his hands.

The man stops in front of her, his big nose and shy smile not an indication of anything, and then he raises his free hand to wipe away one stray tear from her cheeks.

“I heard what happened, are you okay?” His deep voice echoes through her head.

Hyejin looks up trying to remember from where she knows this man, but nothing comes to mind, so, as a weak response, she just shakes her head.

“It’s okay, death is not the end,” he continues, with kindness encompassing his words. “Here, take this.”

He stands his other hand, offering the bouquet of blue flowers.

“They’re forget-me-nots.”

“Oh.”

Hyejin hiccups a little, getting a little dizzy. _It’s the summer’s sun_ , a voice in her head says.

She takes the flowers anyway, marveling at the fact they’re so fragile, and yet so full of life.

When she looks up again, the man is gone, and Hyejin is left with a life to live.

⁂

To get back to her normal routine is hard.

With the whole thing with Mr. Park – she calls it _thing_ because she’s too afraid to say the actual words, even to herself – the higher ups give Hyejin a few days to recover, but once she steps inside the police station again, with the old computers and old people, she realizes she can’t do it. Not anymore.

Not because of Mr. Park, but because of him, too.

It’s a weird feeling, that settles inside her heart and mind; and one day, she sees herself quitting, boxing all her belongings and returning to her apartment with nowhere to go from now on.

But, when she steps inside, blue flowers are waiting for her, and the same phrase keeps being repeated in her mind, again and again.

_Death is not the end_.

Those two things say nothing to her; however, she contemplates what to do now, with her life, with her career.

If death is not the end… then an end is not death, too.

She picks the bundle of flowers on her hands, a few petals falling on the table, just like the hopes and dreams one must leave behind.

Well, for Hyejin, a new day begins, and so, something must end.

The flowers are thrown in the trash quickly, and Hyejin doesn’t look back.

A new day begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah,   
> can't believe this is the end.   
> did you like it??
> 
> this was such a wonderful story to write, so many ups and downs, so much learning. I'm so grateful for it, and I'm also grateful to everyone who took the time to read it, leave a comment, talk to me, or even... just came here and left some kudos. I actually love every single one of you with my whole heart. I hope you were able to feel something while reading this, even if it was just "what even is this girl writing about?" haha   
> but seriously, thank you all so much!!!
> 
> biggest thanks go to Nini, my beta for this story and ALSO my best friend and best person in the whole world. I love you forever honeylove ♡
> 
> and hey, it's not over yet, there's the epilogue and i promise some lovely soft moments cause yes i'm weak too
> 
> let's be friends!!   
> ━━☆⌒*. [twitter](https://twitter.com/tttarkus)
> 
> p.s. - did i cry writing this end note? yes. did i cry writing devotion? BIG YES


	22. Epilogue: Eternal Summer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you reached this chapter, I'm forever grateful. 
> 
> Nini, best friend and best person made a gorgeous art of this fic, please give it some love: [link](https://twitter.com/bluchilipepper/status/1161345029677432833?s=21)
> 
> ♡

In the end, all tales were right and all tales were wrong.

There was a witch – a white, beautiful, stunning witch – a long time ago. A witch who was devoted to the forest and to nature. But the forest wanted something more, of course, because it was in its essence to want the blood and the flesh. So, the witch made a deal: “ _I will bring them to you, I will kill them for you, if only you do it solely on the two solstices of the year, and nothing more._ ”

Incredibly enough, the forest accepted, with one condition: the witch would be bonded to the forest forever, and there was no turning back.

At that time, the witch didn’t know about the golden knight and about the impending death of it all. It was the witch’s coven that gave the warning, after so many years and centuries of doing the same thing. _The cards are showing the golden knight, we need to do something_. And so, a plan they made.

To lure the knight, to kill the knight, before the future visions could become real.

But who could predict what would happen in reality?

That the witch would fall in love with the knight, just like the forest did?

And who could predict that the knight would also fall in love with them?

No one.

Not even the forest herself.

⊙

Taekwoon wakes up with the streams of sunlight coming in from the open window, a calm breeze greeting him, together with the song of morning birds. He smiles at that and makes a mental prayer to the goddess, thanking her for another day.

He moves in bed, feeling the weight of arms holding him from behind.

_Ah_.

As he turns, the arms tighten around him, and he can’t help but smile brightly.

He looks at the face of the man that’s sleeping beside him, and adoration and utter devotion cross through his mind and heart.

Wonshik, dear Wonshik, so naïve and strong and lovable.

Taekwoon makes another mental prayer, but this one is for Wonshik. Always for Wonshik. He takes his sweet time studying his lover’s face, going through all the soft features, his closed eyes, his big nose, his lips. Even sleeping, with his disheveled hair, open mouth and closed eyes, Wonshik looks just like a dream. And now that the forest had chosen him, the man looks ethereal, just like how Taekwoon himself once looked like.

The memory makes his heart clench.

It was painful, to sacrifice Wonshik for the forest. And even more so because he didn’t know what could possibly happen with the action. It was his duty and his downfall altogether.

Everyone was counting on him to do so. The city, his dear friends of the coven, and even the forest.

Because Wonshik was what the forest wanted, and no talk could persuade her to want any other thing.

Taekwoon did try though, to no avail.

And so, he pierced Wonshik’s heart and hoped for the best.

He had learned throughout his life that hope wasn’t the best thing to count on; however, no one could predict that Wonshik was _The Star_ , the embodiment of hope, of the new, of the light. Even Taekwoon didn’t see it, too enraptured with feelings of love.

He was glad all the same, because if he had known, maybe things would have turned out differently.

It was all about intention, after all.

And his desire to keep on living, together with Wonshik, probably helped.

The forest accepted the sacrifice, as expected. But what wasn’t expected was that Wonshik himself accepted his fate. And not only that, he embraced it with the fierce knowledge of death, just like a warrior going into the battlefield.

It was honorable, really.

But death wasn’t what awaited Wonshik.

Taekwoon can still remember that night like it was yesterday, and he fears he will remember it forever: Wonshik bleeding in his arms, the golden spear melting to the ground, the silver moon up above, bathing them in pale light; and the tears, coming from everyone. He really thought it was the end.

But magic, and intention.

He had held Wonshik close to himself for the rest of the night, while the others prayed for whatever it was they prayed for. He wasn’t paying attention. He just wanted Wonshik back. He felt that the forest also did, if the wailing of the wind and the soft rain that started to fall out of nowhere were any indication of anything.

Taekwoon had never cried so much in his entire life, even when he was banned from life, even when everything he had owned and cared for was taken out from him. Because, even when those things happened, the forest was still there for him. However, at that time, the forest had betrayed him in some way.

Or so he had thought.

As the first lights of the morning had reached them, with a new day and a new season, Taekwoon stopped crying, no tears left in his body, and then he finally looked at Wonshik. Beautiful, bright Wonshik.

All the rain and all the tears had cleaned up his face and clothes. And that wasn’t the only thing that had changed.

Gold and silver colored him everywhere, and, for a moment, Taekwoon really thought Wonshik had ascended to something holy.

But no, it wasn’t that.

Thankfully.

Taekwoon watched the moment the first ray of sunlight touched Wonshik’s face, making him open his eyes and gasp for air, crying just like a newborn baby.

( _Because dying might be painful, but to live, to keep yourself awake and at bay, is always harder._ )

And it was true, Taekwoon knew it then, that Wonshik was reborn as the new chosen one of the forest, his new silver hair and bright black eyes a sign of that.

He let Wonshik cry, and he let the others step inside the circle to come up to them.

It was all a big mess, if Taekwoon could be honest. Everyone crying and hugging Wonshik while the other was just _confused_.

For Taekwoon, that moment was undoubtedly one of the happiest of his life.

He could be with his friends again, could recreate the coven again. And Wonshik, beautiful, dearest Wonshik, could join them too.

At that moment, they became six, the number of harmony and perfection, the calm after the storm.

They were united and whole again.

In the present, Taekwoon sighs, brushing a strand of hair away from Wonshik’s face. Letting the memory from that day flow, remembering how, after the whole crying and laughing, Wonshik demanded answers.

That was the hardest part of it all.

How one explain to your beloved that it was all a curse, a plan to actually kill him, but then things had changed and everyone had ended up falling in love with him?

And Taekwoon remembers how Hakyeon couldn’t stop crying, and how even Jaehwan and Sanghyuk were a total mess. In the end, it was Hongbin who had explained.

_It was a curse, a prophecy and magic altogether. To keep the forest alive, to keep the magic flowing, blood is needed, unfortunately. Every solstice there are sacrifices. Taekwoon had tried to stop it a very long time ago, but he couldn’t, and so he got trapped, being the vessel of the forest for those actions._

It was a sad story, and Taekwoon remembers himself shivering out of fear of being rejected and hated by the one he truly loved.

But Wonshik, dear beautiful Wonshik. He only smiled his kind smile.

In the end, Wonshik understood the ways of the forest better than everyone else. Maybe it was the fact that he had lived in the big city his whole life and knew how to appreciate the small things, perhaps it was in his nature all along.

And it was with his deep, soothing voice, that Wonshik had said: “It’s okay, death is not the end.”

Just like that, everything was settled.

It took some time, though, for Wonshik to truly understand his position. However, he wasn’t bonded and restrained like Taekwoon was.

That summer was a season for celebration, and each one of them grew with it. Even the city seemed to grow livelier as if it knew the curse had been broken.

In the here and now, Taekwoon sighs, knowing he needs to wake up his lover soon. He senses movement in bed and looks at his cats climbing up and purring in Wonshik’s ear.

Right on time.

“Wonshikkie,” he whispers. “Love, you need to wake up.”

Wonshik only groans, burying his face on Taekwoon’s chest.

“Too early.”

Taekwoon lets out a chuckle, craning his neck to look at the window. It is indeed, early in the morning. But it’s Sanghyuk’s birthday, and they need to organize stuff. Taekwoon is pretty sure Hakyeon can come any moment now, barging into the room with no care for intimacy.

“Love,” he tries again. “Please? We need to at least clean the kitchen.”

Wonshik opens one eye, staring right into Taekwoon’s soul.

Even after all those years, it’s still a delight to see Wonshik like this.

Taekwoon kisses the tip of his nose.

“I dreamt,” Wonshik says, his voice rough around the edges.

“Oh? About what?”

And it’s the morning light, surely, that makes Wonshik’s skin glow so much.

“About us, a song,” Wonshik answers, smiling.

It’s impossible for Taekwoon to not smile back.

“So it’s time again?”

“Yeah, I think it is.” A pause, a turn in bed, strong arms holding Taekwoon impossibly closer. “Do you think we can pick up that old piano from the house I used to live in?”

Taekwoon feels flutters in his chest, an exciting feeling rising.

“Yes, of course.”

Because if it’s for love…

“I want to write about you.”

“Please don’t.”

And if it’s for kindness and gentleness…

“Just one! I promise it won’t be sappy.”

“Coming from you? It will be the sappiest song of all times.”

Wonshik grins, kissing every corner of Taekwoon’s face.

It’s in every action, every word, that it shows.

The love and devotion.

~e n d~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah, a happy ending at least  
> i hope i did them justice 
> 
> it was a long ride and amazing experience, to write about all those things i wrote about. thank you so much for being with me in this journey ☆☆☆☆ 
> 
> i actually wanted to say a lot of things, like how i was in such a bad place when i first started writing this, and how it made me grow and see life in another way. but maybe that isn't necessary.  
> life is beautiful, and love is important
> 
> i hope you find love, any kind of it, in your life
> 
> blessed be! 
> 
> much love,  
> ttt. ♡

**Author's Note:**

> find me @ [twitter](https://twitter.com/tttarkus)


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